Brothers, Portraits, and Messages
by AJCrane
Summary: It's been one year and four months since his father's death and Tim's life is spinning out of control. He has been suffering needless injuries and his health is in jeopardy. Two more devastating injuries have left Tim in a fragile state. What could be causing Tim to be so careless? As everything unfolds, the Bat Family learns they are more connected than they've ever imagined.
1. Chapter 1

Brothers, Portraits, and Messages.

_**It's been one year and four months since his father's death and Tim's life is spinning out of control. He has been suffering needless injuries and his health is in jeopardy. Two more devastating injuries have left Tim in a fragile state. What could be causing Tim to be so careless? As everything unfolds, the Bat Family learns they are more connected than they've ever imagined, especially two brothers in arms.**_

Part 1

_Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd Wayne, and Dick Grayson sat at Tim Drake's bedside. Tim has suffered at the hands of yet another antagonist, this time Black Mask. Shot in two places, his hip and shoulder, Tim had lost a lot of blood. Tim has also developed a massive infection. Jason was also shot in the leg trying to rescue Tim. Jason blamed himself at getting Tim involved by allowing him to sneak out of the Manor. They are discussing Tim's mental state._

"Do you or Jason know what's been bothering Tim? He doesn't always talk to me," Bruce questioned.

"I know he's been unhappy about what happened the past couple of months," Dick replied. "He said he feels like he should give up his mask." Explaining what happened Dick felt like he violated a confidence, but he was worried for Tim.

"Tim told me he wanted Dick to burn it," Jason stated.

"Burn his mask? Am I hearing that correctly?" Bruce's eyes narrowed. He looked at his third son, sleeping after emergency surgery. Tim was fighting a massive infection from two bullet wounds. His temperature had risen to almost 104.

"He feels as if he's a liability," Jason stated. "He told me this morning, before this fever hit him."

"Last night is when he told me," Dick said.

"How long has he been feeling this way?" Bruce asked.

"Remember when he tried to kill himself?" Dick explained. "Damian told me about it."

"Yes . . . that was about three months ago," Bruce answered

"That's when it started," Dick added. "It took Damian to calm him down."

"That was when I threatened to take his mask because he had been working too hard, school, the Foundation, patrolling. It was getting to be too much," Bruce stated. "He ran away over Christmas. Poison Ivy showed up, then he got hurt, broke a couple of ribs, was sick . . . and now this."

"Damian was very upset when he tried to take his life," Dick stated. "That's around the time Ace was going to have puppies. We thought Tim was getting better. Him and Damian made an agreement to train together. I guess these latest events are changing his mind, again."

"He wanted to get rid of his mask, but I told him to keep it," Jason stated. "I was going to take full responsibility on training him lightly before he could do anything strenuous."

"It's going to take him a long time to recover," Bruce observed, "He's put a lot of strain on his body, but I'm concerned for his mind. I think the issue here is that Tim's spirit has been broken. I think it started earlier than that."

"What is there to do?" Dick stated. "He's going to get upset every time we go out on patrol. We just can't stop just for him. Gotham has to be protected."

"I don't think that's what is upsetting him so much, though that is part of it," Bruce continued. "We've all gone through moments when we could not patrol for various reasons. Do you know what day it actually began?"

"I can't remember," Dick answered.

"I noticed he became moody more like four months ago . . . but I dismissed it, thinking it had to do with Foundation business." Bruce walked over to Tim's desk calendar and flipped back the dates. One date in particular was circled. 'I should have realized what day it was . . . and no one else paid attention.'

"What is it? Jason asked.

"Dick, do you remember how we used to honor your parents memories by placing flowers. Jason you and I found a means to honor your stepmother. Do you remember what we were doing that week?" Bruce turned the calendar around to show Dick and Jason the date. "Talia was trying to take Damian. We were all trying to protect him, including Tim. When it was over the date had passed. It would have been a year." Bruce nearly tossed the calendar across the room. "How could I have been so stupid as to neglect him like that? And why didn't Tim say something to me?"

"Shit . . . the anniversary of his parents' death," Jason stated.

"His father's, at the hands of Captain Boomerang," Bruce clarified. "Seeing his father with that boomerang sticking out of his chest was devastating for him. Tim threw himself into his work soon after that. The anniversary must have been weighing heavily on his mind, and he's been unsettled and unfocused since."

"And making mistakes as well as neglecting his health," Alfred pointed out.

'Damn...how could we forget,' Dick thought.

"Well, the damage is done. So how do we let him know he is still part of this family and not a liability?"

"Might I make a suggestion, Master Bruce," Alfred stated.

"Please do," Bruce answered.

"This young man lying here needs healing first before anything else. He needs his family around him," Alfred stated. "Perhaps when he is sufficiently healed, we all take a vacation. I believe Master Richard is due some vacation time from the force . . . And Master Bruce . . . You need time away from this place as well. You may all take turns sitting with Master Timothy. I shall broach no argument. Since Master Jason and I have taken care of Master Timothy most of the day, you and Master Richard can take this evening. We shall relieve you in the morning. Please keep an eye on Master Timothy's temperature and add the antibiotic every four hours. Master Jason and I are retiring for the night."

"That is true," Dick stated. "A vacation sounds perfect, just what Tim needs."

"Do you think Gotham can do without us for a week?" Bruce asked as he looked over at Dick. "What about you Jason?"

"A vacation doesn't sound bad at all," Jason replied.

"Good, I'll let Damian know when he gets home from Collin's. Alfred can you make arrangement a week from today."

"Provided Master Timothy is healed sufficiently," Alfred replied.

"Tim needs this," Bruce replied. "We can take care of him wherever we decide to go. Jason, Dick, help Alfred with some ideas . . . Something we can all agree on."

"Can we not go somewhere cold?' Jason asked. "There's a start to an idea. It's freaking freezing here."

"I can think of several places. Are we in agreement Dick?

"Yes, I need a break from this cold weather."

'And I know of other plans for Tim that I can make right now. It only takes a phone call. I will call in the morning,' Bruce thought. "Then it's settled. We just have to decide where. We do have all week. Right now, Dick . . . You and I have a vigil to keep, so let's go get a few things and keep an eye on Tim."

"Okay," Dick looked at Jason and saw he was limping and in pain. "Hey, when was the last time you took anything for pain?"

Jason groaned. "A few hours ago."

"Jason?" Bruce looked over at Jason and noticed he was favoring one leg. "Did you hurt yourself?"

"When we went to rescue Tim, I got shot in the back of my leg," Jason leaned onto the wall for support.

"You took a bullet? How bad is it?" Bruce was shocked that Jason had not said anything.

"The pain now?" Jason questioned.

"Master Jason, I must apologize," Alfred stated. "In all the excitement with Master Timothy . . . Please sit. I shall get you something for the pain immediately."

"Better do as Alfred says, Son. We don't want you getting sick as well."

Jason almost collapsed, but Dick caught him before he hit the floor.

"You need to be careful," Dick stated

"Fuck you," Jason hissed out. He tried to stand back up, but his leg prevented him from doing so. "OWWW!"

"Master Jason, there is no excuse for rudeness." Alfred stated frowning. "You should have said something sooner."

"Here lay on the edge of Tim's bed," Dick instructed. He placed his brother down so Jason could adjust.

"Let me take a look at that leg," Bruce insisted.

"No don't touch it," Jason whined. "It freaking hurts."

Bruce peeled back the bandage. "Is it supposed to be swollen like that?"

"I don't know."

"I don't think so," Dick observed. "Nope. It might be getting infected."

Alfred came back with the pain killer and saw the condition of Jason's leg. "Master Jason, that is indeed an infection."

"No it's not infected...it can't be," Jason stated, trying to deny the obvious.

"Master Jason, it is clearly swollen and painful. I shall run a hot bath where you can sit and soak."

"Do as Alfred says," Bruce stated. "We want you to be as healed as possible as well."

"I shall set up a cot here in Master Timothy's room so neither shall be alone and it will be easier for Master Jason to use the tub to soak."

"Jaybird? It's infected," Dick stated. "Why are you in total denial about your wound being infected?"

Jason mumbled something as he lay on the mattress.

"What did you say?" Dick asked.

"Now I can't help with Tim...you asshole! I can't do anything if I'm like this!"

"You can keep him company," Alfred sated. "And language Master Jason. I shall not warn you again."

"Sorry Alfred," Jason grumbled.

Bruce smirked at my sons. 'Seems thing were getting back to normal . . . Sort of . . . We're missing someone.' Bruce placed a hand on Tim's shoulder feeling the heat from his body.

"Come Master Jason . . . I shall run a bath for you . . . Or shall I have your father carry you."

Jason started to grumble, but thought better of it. To be honest a bath did sound nice. He could relax and enjoy some peace and quiet for a while.

Continues with Part 2


	2. Chapter 2

Brothers Portraits, and Messages.

Part 2

Tim's temperature broke sometime during the night. He was bathed in sweat. It dampened the sheets to a point where he started to shiver. Tim opened his eyes to see that Bruce and Dick were asleep. Not wanting to wake them, Tim tried to get up but fell immediately back against the pillows. His left arm was put in a sling and made it difficult to maneuver. Breathless, he tried again and got half way, but his energy was spent. Lying back down Tim watched Bruce and Dick's breathing while they slept. Tim's mind started working on various thoughts. He wondered who was going to discover him first. Then his thoughts went back to how this started. 'I hope Bruce will not be too mad at me . . . I guess this was a fitting punishment for having been stupid. I know I won't sneak out again . . . Just forgive me,' Tim yawned. 'I guess sleeping isn't such a bad idea right now.' Closing his eyes Tim once again let the sound of Bruce and Dick's breathing lull him to sleep.

"What the hell are you doing here, Todd?' Damian questioned. "Father didn't want you back here."

"This is none of your fucking concern child," Jason argued. "Now move out of my way!"

"No! You don't tell me what to do," Damian argued. "You are not welcomed here! Remove yourself!" Damian stood in front of Jason.

Tim didn't know how long he slept when he heard voices. It sounded like some argument. He tried to turn over but something prevented him from doing it. He opened his eyes and looked at his right arm. Oh right the IV. Tim wanted to sleep more and the voices were making a racket. Finally, he had enough.

"HEY! Can't a guy get some sleep around here!" Tim yelled. "Take it outside!" Tim grumbled. 'Can't Damian and Todd just get along.' Tim tried to turn over to go back to sleep.

"Master Jason, Master Damian, I will not have you fighting in front of Master Timothy's door while he is recuperating. Take it elsewhere please."

"Move the fuck out ta my way!" Jason was getting angrier by the minute.

"And what are you going to do? You're already injured, you pathetic weakling."

Jason snapped and punched the kid right in the jaw. "You have no fucking right to call people weaklings! You're probably half the reason why Tim doesn't want to be in the hero business! Fuck you!"

"Master Damian . . . Master Jason . . . What did I say? Must I repeat myself?" Alfred stood with his arms behind his back, but the boys were ignoring him.

"Get rid of him then!" Jason yelled, pointing to Damian. "He's always spewing shit out of his mouth! He's the one that shouldn't be here! His own mother didn't even want him!"

"You shut up Todd! Father doesn't love nor want you! Your death must have been a joke!"

"ENOUGH!" Bruce demanded as he came out of Tim's room. "Alfred, take these two and give them a suitable punishment. Tim can't sleep with all this racket."

"I was just coming in to check on Master Timothy's wounds, check his temperature, and relieve you."

"That's fine Alfred . . . Then I'll find a suitable punishment where they will have to learn to work together."

"I'm not working with this demon," Jason stated.

"I can't stand you either, asshole."

"That's it! " Bruce growled. "No vacation for you two if you cannot get along. You two will stay behind and guard Gotham . . . And NO KILLING!"

"No. Father please, I'll behave," Damian whined. "Don't leave me here with him!"

"Do you have anything to say Jason?"

"I don't want to be here either. I'm looking forward to a vacation."

"Then you will both follow the rules, no fighting until then."

"Yes, Sir," both said in unison.

"I need your assistance with Master Timothy, Master Jason." Jason followed Alfred back into Tim's room.

"Alfred . . . Jason . . ." Tim tried to sit up. "What's going on?"

"Lay back Master Timothy so we can check you bandages," Alfred stated.

"Nothing Timmy . . . Just ran into some "little" problem."

Tim laid back so Alfred and Jason could check his wounds. "Is Damian out there still? I thought I heard his voice. Can I see him?"

"I'm leaving if he comes in here," Jason stated.

"Master Jason, you shall do no such thing," Alfred stated icily. "I need your assistance to clean Master Timothy's wounds. Ignore the barbs."

"Fine," Jason grumbled.

"Can you sit up Master Timothy?" Alfred asked, but he could see Tim struggling to sit up. "Master Jason, please help Master Timothy to sit up so I can change his sheets and get him into clean dry pajamas."

"All right let's get you up right." Jason slid his arms underneath Tim and lifted, sliding him up against his pillows.

" . . . Hugh . . . " Tim groaned. The pull on his shoulder didn't do him any good either. "Can Damian visit me, please?" Tim started to shiver when his pajamas were removed.

Jason clicked my tongue. "I guess if you want," he mumbled under his breath, "I don't know why..."

"I promised Damian something," Tim answered. "I'm not going to be able to do it for a while . . . And . . . I . . ." Tim felt the pangs of uselessness again.

"Of course you may see Master Damian," Alfred said as he assisted Tim with his pajama pants. Your hip is looking much better since we cleaned out the infection. Now let's take a look at that shoulder. Master Jason, please have fresh bandages ready while I clean the shoulder wound."

Jason went into Tim's bathroom to the medicine cabinet and pulled out bandages. He returned and handed them to Alfred. He watched as Alfred removed the old bandages around Tim's shoulder.

"That is looking much better as well." Alfred said as he cleaned the wound and took the bandages from Jason. "Thank you Master Jason . . .You have been very helpful during this crisis."

"Anything to make it up to Tim."

"Aw . . . Jay . . . You don't have to do that."

"Here Master Timothy, let's put you shirt on . . . Bend forward a bit."

"Aaaagh," Tim hitched in a breath. He could feel his stitches pulling as he bent forward so Alfred could to put the shirt around his shoulders.

"Need a painkiller Master Timothy?"

"Yeah . . . I could use one," Tim stated. "Why didn't Black Mask shoot me in the foot. At least I could get up and use a pair of crutches."

"Since Master Damian has not assisted yet, why don't I ask him to get you some painkiller from the cave. Master Jason, would you please ask Master Damian to come in."

Jason bit his tongue and exited the room to Damian's. "Hey ugly, Alfred wants you in Tim's room."

"Shut up Todd," Damian groused getting off the floor and following him into Tim's room.

"Masters Jason and Damian, remember what your father stated."

"Hey Damian," Tim said as he struggled to get his pajama shirt on. "Aaaaaaa . . . Stitches pulling . . ."

"Perhaps if you straighten your left arm," Alfred instructed. "I can slide the pajama shirt over this arm and then we can put it on your other arm."

" -tt- how are you?" Damian folded my arms against his chest and glared at his wounded brother.

"Not bad, considering I got shot twice," Tim joked. "How did you hear about it? You were with Collin."

"Father messaged me."

"I don't remember that."

"You developed an infections in both wounds yesterday and needed emergency treatment," Alfred stated. "Both wounds had to be opened and cleaned. You were running a very high fever and delirious."

"I woke up around 4:30 in the morning and saw Bruce and Dick in my room."

"Your fever must have broken at that time."

"Damian . . . I wanted to say . . . I'm sorry . . . Um . . . I won't be able to show you some moves with the bow staff . . .Um . . . Why are you scowling at me?"

"Breaking your promises . . . I despise that..."

'Damian . . . I can't . . . Not with a shot up shoulder and hip . . . I can't even hold a bow staff right now . . . Bruce probably won't want me doing anything for at least a couple of months."

"Master Damian . . . If you had seen the wounds before surgery . . . Master Timothy was lucky," Alfred scolded. "The wound to his hip alone could have shattered the bone. He lost a great deal of blood."

"My apologies," Damian bowed his head in shame. "I know you are not going to be able to do something for a couple a months. I just thought you didn't want to train me anymore."

"Of course I want to," Tim said. "Tell you what . . . If Bruce let's me down in the cave, I could watch you practice with your sword. Did any of your teachers before you came here teach you some practice forms you can show me?" Tim knew how good Damian was with that saber. He could not help feeling some trepidation at the prospect of crossing swords again. Tim could also see that Damian needed something more than reassurance on making good on a promise. Tim waved Damian over. "Come here."

Damian shuffled over to Tim nervously. "Yes?"

"Alfred could you hand me that short metal item. It looks like a pointer."

"Here you go Master Timothy," Alfred stated, handing over the small object.

"I'm not supposed to keep this in my room, but . . ." Tim pressed a hidden button and the short metal tube expanded into a metal bow staff. "You remember this? I haven't used this particular staff since I got my wings." Tim rubbed his hands along its length. It was light, but strong. Without saying another word, Tim held out the staff toward Damian.

"For me? " Damian slowly took the staff from Tim.

"If I'm going to be your teacher, a student needs a staff. My teacher gave me this staff when I was learning. And before you ask he wasn't our father. I'm passing it on to you. It's my promise to teach you . . . I don't know when that will be . . . But just so you know I keep my promises."

Damian gave Tim a smile, a big smile. "Thanks Tim!"

"There is one thing you're going to have to do for me."

"What?"

"Don't argue with Jason. You don't know the full story about what happened."

"What did happen?" Damian asked. He was curious, but skeptical.

"First what did Father tell you?" Tim asked.

"That Jason almost got you killed. He left then came back. I'm not sure Father trusts him."

'Boy Bruce didn't tell him everything,' Tim thought. "First, Jason isn't to blame for everything. I am . . . I talked Jason into getting me out of the Manor . . ." Tim could see that Damian had this confused look on his face. "It changed after Jason got me out. I didn't know he was going to meet someone who owed him money. That person was Black Mask. Things backfired and Jason made sure I was safe, but he was nearly killed in the process. His back was torn up pretty bad. I called Dick to help. I made the mistake agreeing to bring back Jason's motorcycle. I put on his helmet for my own safety, not thinking that Black Mask would come after us, Jason specifically. Black Mask mistook me for the Red Hood. I tried to talk myself out of the situation. I had no weapons, no grapple, only a mask that Jason gave me to wear to protect my identity. I tried to protect Jason and tried to find a way to call for backup. I wasn't Red Robin. And I was way over my head. I stalled for time . . . I was trapped in Black Mask's car with no way out." The images were growing stronger in Tim's mind. "He shot me . . . Be . . . be because I-I-I didn't . . . Want to give up Jason . . . Then he shot me again and I had no choice . . ." The tears were streaming down. And despite the stitches Tim curled up his legs and buried my face against my knees. "Jason would have died too. It's not all his fault . . . If I hadn't left the manor . . . But if I hadn't gone with him . . . I shouldn't have ridden his motorcycle. I should have driven the Redbird home, my car. So . . . You see we were at fault, Damian. Not just Jason . . . And we both have to live with it."

"So, you both are at fault, but you need to stop throwing yourself on a guilt trip." Damian sat down on the bed. "I'm not saying this to be rude but you and Jay are still alive, right now. Right here. Why are you and Jason stuck in the past? What is done is done. What you can do now is get better, get stronger. Do what you must so you know the mistakes not to make."

"I'm only telling you what happened because I had nightmares . . . That Black Mask got ahold of Jason . . . Set a trap for him . . . And killed him . . . All because of me . . . I promised I'd teach you . . . And I won't go back on that promise . . . But I've become a liability . . . I've screwed up too many times."

"There you go again. You keep giving up easily. Maybe you should stop," Damian looked down at the carpet, trying to hide his tears of disappointment. "I was looked forward to working beside you when patrolling." Damian got up to leave. "Get better...we are going on vacation soon."

"Vacation?"

Damian left the room, leaving the staff behind.

Continues with Part 3


	3. Chapter 3

Brothers Portraits, and Messages.

Part 3

Tim looked down at his hands and saw they were shaking. 'I've lost something and I don't know if I can ever get it back. I keep seeing my father's body transformed into Bruce, even Dick, Jason, and Damian. I couldn't stop it . . . I'm afraid of it happening again.'

Alfred could see that Tim's hands were shaking and he knew that something was disturbing the older teen. He watched Damian leave then picked up the bow staff. He pressed the hidden button and it collapsed into its compact size and placed it in his pocket.

"Perhaps it is best that you rest Master Timothy," the butler said, and helped Tim to lie down.

After Tim was comfortable once more, Alfred left Timothy alone to dispose of the soiled bandages and pajamas. His thoughts of what had transpired intruded on his current duty. Alfred found Master Damian leaning against the wall his hands in his pockets with a scowl on his face much like his father's. Tim's injuries had affected the whole family. It was time to do something about it.

'I must speak to everyone on this matter. After listening to Damian and Timothy's conversation I understand what the problem is.' Alfred thought. "Master Damian, please ask Masters Richard and Jason to join me in your father's study."

" -tt- " Damian replied with a scoff, but wandered over to Grayson's room and knocked on the door. Dick answered the door and Damian could see Jason was sitting on Dick's bed.

"Yes, what is it Damian," Dick asked.

"Pennyworth wants us in the study." Damian watched as Grayson helped Todd to his Father's study.

Alfred went immediately into the study to talk with the master of the Manor. "Master Bruce . . . I need to speak with everyone. It is of great importance."

"What is it Alfred?"

"We must wait for the others than I'll speak," Alfred replied

Alfred watched as Dick carried Jason inside and placed him in a chair then took a seat on the floor. Damian followed behind.

"Alfred, what's this about?"

"As you know, Master Timothy has suffered an unusual amount of difficulties this past three to four months. I fear despite the promise he made to Master Damian, if he has one more such incident as this one, it will shatter his spirit all together and he will do something rash." Alfred saw several worried sets of eyes. He knew his statement must have alarmed everyone, but he continued. "With all that has happened Master Timothy's confidence in himself has been utterly shaken. He not only is suffering from extreme guilt, Master Timothy believes he is a liability."

"A liability . . . He hasn't said anything to me," Bruce stated then asked, "Has he said anything to you three?

"He must have mentioned it to me about three different times," Jason stated.

"Same," Dick answered. "It annoys me actually that Tim thinks that. All the reassurance we give him and he still pushes that thought to the front of his mind."

"We do suspect as to what brought it on," Bruce stated. "Dick, you and I discussed it. Perhaps we need to backtrack and do something to honor his parents' memories. Maybe through the Wayne Foundation."

"Seems like the right thing to do," Dick concurred.

"We see what can be arrange. I was planning on bringing his parents' bodies here to rest in the Wayne family cemetery. I need to make that call. Dick, your parents are there and Jason, your birth mother is buried there as well. I never got a chance to tell you that. It's fitting that Tim's parents be there too."

Tim picked up his calendar and counted the days . . . 114 days have passed since . . . A year and 114 days . . . 108 of them hurt, sick, wounded. 'Dad, why can't I do things right any more.' Tim questioned. 'I have to do something . . . Get out of this rut . . . Say goodbye.' Tim got up, but was a bit shaky. He put on some pants and a jacket. He slipped on some shoes and moved to the door. Everyone seemed busy. 'I'll take the old access tunnel. It's faster . . . And no one will know I was even gone.'

Tim made his way to the cave via the elevator and walked to an area that had several old filing cabinets. They used to house all of Batman's records on villains. Behind one was the old tunnel leading to his father's country house. Tim made his way down the tunnel and noticed it had been cleared. As he drew closer, the memories of that night assaulted his mind. He stepped into the basement and made his way upstairs. The house was once again put in some reasonable order.

'Could Alfred be taking care of it for me?' Tim's hip was hurting him, but he ignored it. He moved through the rooms and ended up in his father's study. Tim pulled down what he wanted most to see, the photo albums. He started flipping through each one. He saw his Mother's face and the memories flooded back. All those archeological trips, he missed them. They were truly a family during those times. Then he saw his Dad's face, then Dana's.

'She made my Dad happy, but I will never forget that horrible night. I was Robin and I could not stop it from happening, hearing it over the phone it sounded so surreal, but seeing my father's body just broke something in me. One year and 114 days. I'm so sorry Dad.' Tim pushed the photo album away, bent his head down on his Father's desk and wept. 'I never thought I would miss you like this . . . Miss you so much that it ached deep down . . .I miss you . . . I miss you . . . ' Tim fall asleep on his father's desk with the photo albums surrounding him.

Bruce made the phone calls after the meeting with Alfred. Jack and Janet Drake were buried in Gotham City Cemetery. It would take a couple of days for everything to come together. The vaults would have to be removed along with the headstone. The three waited until Bruce hung up the phone.

"Okay, it's been arranged. Tim's parents will be moved to the Wayne Family Cemetery in two days. I know of a spot near some trees overlooking the old barn."

"Dick, could you and Damian tell Tim the news about his parents. Jason and I need to have another conversation."

Jason watched as Damian and Dick left the room.

"Jason . . . Perhaps I was too hasty in my decision . . . I saw how you worked with Alfred to take care of Tim. It is obvious you do care."

'He is now just realizing this?' Jason frowned but did not say anything.

"There are times I am blinded from . . . seeing the obvious or what is underneath when it comes to my sons."

"You need to work on that," Jason said with a smirk.

"I think you're right," Bruce smiled slightly. "I will do my best. I cannot promise that I won't make mistakes . . . "

Bruce was just wondering what was keeping Damian and Dick when Damian rushed into Bruce's office.

"FATHER! Drake is not in his room!"

"WHAT?"

Continues with Part 4


	4. Chapter 4

Brothers, Portraits, and Messages.

By

AJ

Part 4

"You heard me Father, Drake isn't in his room!"

Bruce followed Damian and Dick back to Tim's room. His bed was disturbed. He quickly assessed the situation by scanning the room. He could see that Tim's shoes and his jacket were gone. 'He could not have gone far. He's taken his jacket and his shoes, but he was still in his pajamas.' Bruce turned toward his youngest son. "Search outside on the grounds."

"On it," Dick stated and he went to get a jacket.

'Drake really knows how to cause a seen. Can't he just stay put?' Damian sighed.

"We better check the cave. I have an idea."

"What is it?" Damian asked.

Bruce raced to the cave and looked around. 'I remembered something.' He thought. "This way Damian. " As he approached a different area of the cave Bruce noticed shoe prints in the dirt leading behind some old filing cabinets. "Behind here."

"Father where are we going?" Damian asked.

Bruce moved in behind the cabinets to a tunnel he almost forgot about. Tim would use this tunnel between their houses to come to the cave. "I believe I know where Tim has gone."

Bruce and Damian walked quickly through the tunnel. Bruce could see Tim's faltering footprints in the dirt. When they got to the end of the tunnel, they came upon a door. Bruce found the mechanism to open it. They came up inside a basement. Bruce knew where they were at that point and headed up to the main portion of the house. He stopped to examine the floor and found dusty footprints leading toward the center of the house. He could see a door was open off the main room. He entered and found Tim sleeping at his father's desk with photo albums surrounding him. His hand was grasping a small album. Bruce took a glance and saw they were baby pictures of Tim and his parents.

Bruce checked Tim, being careful not to wake him. He saw some blood spots on his bandaged hip, but nothing significant.

"He's all right Damian," Bruce said quietly, "He's only asleep. He must be exhausted having come this far."

"Father, I'm taking this photo album for Tim," Damian picked up a small one. He had an idea.

Bruce noticed that an envelope had slipped from the album and fallen on the floor. "Why don't you and Dick come back here and pick up the other albums. They should be with Tim in any case. He hasn't had a whole lot of opportunities to clean out his father's house."

'I'll just take what I can now. Making too many trips might tire me." Damian stated. He was still recovering from a concussion.

Bruce carefully picked Tim up in his arms, leaning him against his shoulder.

Damian's phone rang at that moment. "What?"

""Did you find him?" Dick asked.

"Yes we did. Do me a favor go down into the Cave and head into that tunnel that magically appeared. I need your help with something."

"What tunnel?"

"Behind some old metal file cabinets," Damian answered.

"Oh, I see it. Be right there." Dick answered. "That has to be the tunnel that lead to Jack Drake's house."

"Let's get him back home," Bruce said. "Damian could you also pick up that envelope."

Dick returned to the Manor and to the cave, and could see fresh footprints in the dust, leading them right to Tim's old house. He found Damian in Jack Drake's old office. He could not help notice the large stain that marred the wooden floor.

"It's about time you showed," Damian sounded annoyed. "Pick up those albums."

"Tim's family albums. What do you plan to do with them?"

"Burn them," Damian said in a dull tone. He watched as Dick's eyes widen in horror. "No you stupid man, I'm doing a small project. I need them."

Dick picked up the rest and watched Damian pick up an envelope. "Ready?"

Damian nodded and they headed back through the house to the tunnel leading back to the Manor. Once they were back in the cave, Dick was curious about the project that Damian had mentioned.

"What do you plan to do with these?"

"You still have that huge cork board?"

#

Bruce carried Tim up to his room once he reached the Manor again. He placed Tim on his bed, removed his shoes, and covered him with his sheet and blanket. Tim had slept all the way home.

"Master Bruce . . . Where ever did you find him?"

"Sleeping at his father's desk and looking at old photo albums. The anniversary of his father's death was almost four months ago. I promised Tim that we would honor his father's memory at the funeral. Unfortunately that didn't happen. We need to rectify that."

"Poor boy," Alfred replied. "Do you suppose that everything that has happened that played a part?"

"No doubt. Everyone makes mistakes, but Tim . . . he takes those mistakes and internalizes them."

'Voices? In my Dad's study? No . . . I'm lying down . . . my bed,' Tim opened his eyes. ". . . Huh . . . What . . . how?"

"I carried you back here," Bruce stated when he saw the confused look in Tim's face.

"I'm sorry . . . I made you worry . . ."

"Tim, you have to stay put if you're going to heal. You started bleeding again. Luckily it's not significant. I'll have Alfred and Jason change your bandages."

" . . . Okay . . ." Tim's response was subdued and quiet. He knew that he shouldn't have left without telling someone, but Tim just had to. The ache in his heart was so overwhelming. 'I failed to save my Dad . . . And I've failed at so many other times after . . . I just don't feel I deserve to be here.' Tim turned on his right side and closed his eyes. 'Why couldn't they leave me where I was? That's my home. I don't belong here any more.' He could feel tears slipping down his face.

"I'll let you sleep," Bruce said and left the room.

Continues with Part 5


	5. Chapter 5

Brothers, Portraits, and Messages.

By

AJ

Part 5

Bruce went down to the cave to check on Dick and Damian's progress. "How are things going here? Do you have all of Tim's photo albums?"

"Yes, Father. I started scanning the images into the computer."

Bruce was curious about Damian's project, but instead he wanted to remind his oldest and youngest just what Tim meant to them and why they were doing the things they were doing for him. "Tim has not been able to focus clearly for the past four months because his father's death is too fresh in his mind. It seems to me by helping him to heal both in body and spirit we'll get Tim back on his feet. He's a good Detective and has often caught clues even I've missed. We need him and he needs us."

"Father I'm going to need your help." Damian was scanning the pictures into the bat computer then printing them out on photo paper, placing the originals back in the albums.

"What help do you need," Bruce asked.

"I cannot bare to see Drake the way he is now," Damian stated, trying hard to hide his face. "So I decided to make a small little collage of his family photos. I'm also going to add photos of us. Showing him that he has us as family too. I . . . I just hope he likes it. "

"So by us helping to create this, it will show all the love we have for him," Dick added.

"Using that corkboard, we can pin the photos and leave little messages to it."

"Boys, that is very thoughtful of you." Bruce said, remembering the little scavenger hunt that Damian sent him on, and finding those remnants of his parents love for each other, his mother's painting with his hand print and the stone marker in Greece, plus the very spot in Spain where his father must have proposed to his mother. It was a thoughtful gesture Bruce would never forget. Damian has changed so much since he first came to the Manor. 'Though he still has to work out his differences with regard to Jason,' Bruce thought.

"Thank you father. " Damian smiled. 'I wanted to help Drake in my own special way,' he thought "Where is Todd? I would like for him to help as well."

"Jason is with Alfred, helping to change Tim's bandages," Bruce replied. "I can send him down here to help. Is that the enveloped that dropped on the floor?"

"Yes. It is," Damian answered.

"Let me take a look at it,"

Dick handed over the letter while Damian continued to scan images. Bruce opened it to find several sheets of paper inside. His eyes narrowed at what I was reading. Bruce turned toward the back and found a sheet that he did not expect. 'Tim wasn't . . . that would explain some things . . . but this was totally unexpected. I am going to have to read more on this.'

Bruce turned back to the first sheet. It was a journal page written in Jack Drake's hand. It was short. He read the first page and was stunned at the revelation.

_**I can't believe this is happening. We've tried so long and to find out that Janet isn't able to get pregnant? It's devastating to both of us. I don't know what we're going to do at this point.**_

"Damian, Dick under no circumstanced do I want Tim to see what's written on these sheets of paper, not until I've had a chance to evaluate them," Bruce stated.

"What is it? Dick asked, hoping that Bruce wouldn't keep whatever was written on the pages a secret.

"Keep them with you," Damian stated. "Drake won't see them that way."

"I may need your help on this Dick. Keep it confidential for now. It looks like Janet Drake wasn't Tim's mother." Bruce handed Dick the first sheet of paper.

"You're kidding!" Dick looked over the sheet that Bruce handed him.

"Perhaps you and I can go over these pages together," suggested Bruce. "There may be some information on whom his mother must have been. We'll have to read through each page for clues."

Bruce handed Dick the second page.

_**Janet and I are having problems ever since we got the news. She's just not handling things well. We've been arguing. I have to go on a dig in Europe. Janet doesn't want to come with me. I'll be gone for three months. She'll be staying with her mother during that time. I love her so much and she's my partner for life, but this . . . I don't know how we're going to get through this. Maybe adoption . . . but my father is very strict on wanting a grandson, someone who might even take over the family business. He doesn't believe in adoption. It's got to be full blood. I can't tell him about Janet. And I'm certain she wouldn't want to either. There's got to be a way.**_

"Dick, notice anything from this second page that might give us a clue?"

"Sounds like they are on the path to cloning. Maybe test tube . . . like Damian," Dick teased.

"I don't think it involves cloning," Bruce chided shaking his head. "Adoption seemed to be an option that they both thought about, but Jack's father, I met the man. Paul Drake was . . . very old fashion . . . old money type. He was proud of Jack, being his only son, and hoped he'd take over Drake Industries. But Jack wasn't interested . . . And Paul Drake wasn't the type to accept someone that wasn't of his blood."

Dick sighed and placed the paper down. "I don't want to look into this anymore. Tim's already hurt enough. To learn that Janet wasn't his mother . . . That could really hurt him. You can continue to look into it, I'm helping Damian." Dick turned away until he was brought back into the investigation with Bruce's next words.

Bruce's eyes widened when he read the third page. "You may want to read this one."

_**A traveling circus stopped at the dig for several nights. They've been entertaining the nearby towns. The members of my dig have also gone to see the show a few times. They've invited us to share their table. It's been nice to get away for a while. Haven't seen my wife now for almost a month. I miss her. Didn't notice before but the aerialist's wife looks a lot like Janet. I took a few pictures. Janet might get a kick out of it. They say everyone has a twin in the world. She does look like Janet, if she had blond hair. I included one. **_

Dick took the third page. There was a photo at the bottom. "That's my Mom."

"Here's the fourth," Bruce handed Dick the next page.

_**I didn't mean to get myself involved. It was their last night here. They will be moving out in the morning, going to the next series of towns. Mary suddenly showed up at my tent crying. I only meant to console her, talk about my own marriage difficulties. Things just happened. Must have missed my wife so badly. Can't tell Janet. It was one of those one-night stands. Probably will never see her again.**_

'Mother slept with him?' Dick's thoughts were now piqued, "Give me the next one."

"Here's the last of the journal pages."

_**I never thought I'd see her again. She showed up carrying a bundled in her arms. Said she had something to tell me. What a way for my wife to find out. Luckily we worked things out. I asked her why she couldn't keep the baby. She said her husband was the jealous type. He found out about the one-night-stand. He refused to take care of a child that wasn't his. "Broke our son's heart when I had to bring him," Mary said. "My son is only six and didn't understand. He even gave him a name. His name is Timothy." I promised her that we would take good care of him. At least he'll have half of my genes. Half was better than none, at least in my father's eyes. I get to raise my son. We'll have to fill something out. I know someone who can get us a birth certificate. At least my father will be happy.**_

His eyes widened. Everything clicked. 'Why he looks like me . . . Tim . . . Tim could be my brother,' Dick thought. "Any more of those papers?" His curiosity was piqued now. "Bruce he is my brother . . . he's . . . I remember now . . . I was going to be the best big brother ever . . . Mom gave him away," Dick started to cry.

'The birth certificate lists Janet and Jack as the parents. At least half of it was the truth. There's one more page, it's addressed to Tim." Bruce said.

"Bruce . . . We need to run a blood test . . . please . . . please? I want to make sure." He needed to make sure Tim was his blood. 'I won't be so alone in the world. Don't get me wrong I love Bruce and Damian. They are my family but to have another Grayson?'

"We can run the test today if you like."

"Now . . . now, please?"

"Sure, I can get Alfred to draw some blood from both of you. The test won't take long."

"Drake might be your brother?" Damian tilted his head to the side and pulled on Dick's shirt to be picked up. "Dick, so does this mean he's a Grayson, too?"

Seeing how important it was to Dick, that the blood test was done, Bruce decided to do it himself. "Come on Dick, let's get you over to the medical bay. I can draw blood with the best of them."

With Damian in his arms, Dick walked over to the medical bay. His little brother seemed to need comfort all of a sudden. It wasn't like Damian to want to be picked up.

"Roll up your sleeve." Bruce instructed.

Damian helped his older brother out and rolled up his sleeve. Dick held his arm out for Bruce. Bruce worked in silence, putting the tubing around Dick's arm, finding a good vein, then drawing the blood. He marked the tube and placed it in the rack in a small refrigerator. That will keep the sample fresh. Now to get a sample from Tim. Bruce took an empty test tube and a fresh needle. "Want to help? We don't want him to know what it's for until after the test is done."

"This doesn't make me any less of a brother to you . . . right?" Damian asked.

"Of course not! You will always be my brother. " Dick hugged Damian tightly.

"Sure."

Bruce kneeled in front of Damian. "Damian, nothing is going to change in regards to that. I adopted Dick and Tim. They are your brothers, even though they do not have my blood. That will never change. Tim and Dick, finding out they are related, that they are brothers, makes the relationship all the more special.

"I just don't want Dick to forget about me. I'm happy for them . . . truly I am."

"Dick could never forget about you any more than he can forget about Jason or Tim. While I was gone, Dick played a very important role, teaching you and being there when you needed someone. He will always be there."

"Okay," Damian answered, but he still wasn't totally convinced.

"Now . . . let's go draw some blood from Tim and run that test."

Continues with Part 6


	6. Chapter 6

Brothers, Portraits, and Messages.

By

AJ

Part 6

Damian followed his father into Tim's room. Tim was facing the away from the door when he heard someone come in. He recognized Bruce's footsteps.

"Am I in trouble?" he asked without turning to face is adoptive father.

"Should you be in trouble?" Bruce asked back.

" . . . Um . . . I just wanted . . ." Tim tried to explain, wiping away a tear. "To . . . To . . ."

"Tim, It's all right. You're not in trouble. I just need to take a blood sample."

"Don't cry Tim. We aren't mad at you."

"Blood sample? What for?" Tim looked at Bruce as he turned over then saw Damian and Dick's faces. They looked like the cat that swallowed the canary, especially Dick. "What's going on?" Tim held out his right arm since his left was put in a sling to relieve pressure on his shoulder.

"Nothing bad," Damian said and waited until their father was finished before hugging Tim. "I love you."

Dick smiled at Damian and Tim's awkward hug.

'He loves me,' Tim's eyes became wide. "Um . . . I . . . love you, too . . . What is going on here?" Then fear set in. "Oh God . . . Am I . . . am I dying?"

Bruce chuckled. "No, you're not dying. It's nothing to worry about. I just need a blood sample for our records. I need to update some information."

Tim could tell that Bruce was hiding something, but he couldn't tell what it was. Damian gave Tim another hug.

"All right Lil D, let's finish Tim's surprise," Dick said.

"Surprise?" Tim questioned, curiously.

"No peeking!" Damian called out and ran out of the room with Dick following close behind.

"I don't know what those two are up to . . . but if they are working on something to surprise you . . . they probably just want to see you get better," Bruce said as he watched his eldest and youngest leave the room.

"I guess . . . " Tim replied as a warmth spread through him. 'Damian saying he loves me. Will wonders never cease.'

"I better return to the cave and keep an eye on those two." Bruce carried the sample, hoping for the best.

"What are the two up to?" Jason questioned

"You asking Bruce or me?" Tim questioned Jason.

"Both . . . You know what, I'll go down to the cave," Jason decided, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"What is going on? Alfred, do you know?"

"No Master Timothy, I do not," Alfred replied. 'Other than learning Master Timothy's whereabouts earlier, I am at a loss as to know what was going on, which was a rare occurrence for me.'

"I'll need a swab from you Dick," Bruce said, pulling out what looked like a giant Q-tip. "I just need to swap the inside of your cheek." Bruce was aware of Jason coming into the cave, but he chose to ignore it for the moment.

Dick opened his mouth to let Bruce swap the inside of his cheek to acquire the DNA sample that he needed.

"Todd, come here!' Damian demanded.

"Child, you can be nice about it," Jason responded, but continued to go over to where Damian was working.

At the same time Bruce took the swab and applied it to the material to test the DNA markers. He grabbed the DNA sample from Tim for comparison and then set up for blood tests. "The tests will take about fifteen minutes to complete. The computer will let us know if there's a match for being siblings." Bruce walked over to the computer and watched Damian working on his project. "So, how is the project going?"

"Good so far. Do you have any photos you want to add?" Damian asked as he showed his father the work so far. Jason started to put a boarder around the edge that had robins on it.

"There are images you can add from this file," Bruce pulled up a computer folder that contained images of Tim and himself as well as others. There were ones with Tim and Dick. The more recent ones included Tim with Jason and Damian as well.

"I'll print these out. Jason can you start writing little messages on these for Tim?" Dick asked.

'Red Robin. Yum is going on one of these,' Jason thought to himself in a teasing manner.

"Thank you Jason . . . for helping us," Damian stated.

"No problem. Anything to help Tim."

"Dick, I've been reading this letter from Jack Drake," Bruce said. "I think we should give it to him when Damian presents his surprise. I really think he needs this."

"What does it say? If you don't mind me asking."

"Jack writes about Tim's birth mother."

"Oh," Dick replied.

"This confirms what we thought. Mary Grayson is Tim's birth mother."

Dick's heart stopped. He could feel the tears build up. He wanted to run up and hug Tim and tell him everything.

Bruce could see the look on Dick's face. "Can you wait . . . Fifteen minutes . . . That's when the tests will be ready."

"Will they be done in 15 minutes?" Dick pointed to Damian and Jason. "I know they wanted to give that to Tim, the same time we tell him the news."

"What have I taught you, Dick . . . Ask."

"Hey Damian and Jason."

"What?" Both answered at the same time.

"When will you two be done?" Dick asked

"When you get your ass over here and help write these little notes and pin pictures!" Jason tossed a pen to Dick.

Bruce had to be proud of his sons working together on something personal. They worked together on outside work sometimes, but working on a project for Tim warmed Bruce's heart. Their lives were often filled with danger and even conflict among themselves, but this time, cooperation was the order of the day. When fifteen minutes did go by it was almost without notice.

"Father we are done!" Damian announced.

At that moment the computer beeped. Bruce went over and looked at the printout then carried it over to Dick. "I think I'll let you read the results yourself."

As Dick read the printout, his eyes grew wide and then a huge smile spread across his face. 'Match . . . positive . . . it's positive . . .' Dick had to read it a few more times to make sure his eyes weren't giving him false hope. "BRUCE IT'S POSTIVE! He's . . . he's . . ."

"Breath Dick . . . But please don't swing on the chandelier on the way up to see Tim . . . Your brother."

"Too late!" Dick started to run up the stairs but stopped. "Come on Jason and Damian!" He continued up the stone steps. 'My heart . . . It was going a million miles per hour. I have time, my brother . . . my biological brother!'

Damian couldn't help but smirk.

"WAIT! What the hell is going on?" Jason looked over at Bruce.

"Dick just discovered he has a biological brother and it's Tim."

"Holy shi- I mean, wow! I would have never guessed," Jason caught myself before Bruce had a chance to yell at him for swearing.

"Come on before he smothers Tim before we have a chance to give this to him," Damian exclaimed.

Dick waited for those three to reach the top of the stairs before bursting into Tim's room. "Timmy!"

"Dick? What . . ." Why was Dick so excited?

"HOLD IT!" Damian yelled at Dick before he opened his mouth. "Tim we made you something." Jason and Damian walked it over to him.

Tim's eyes grew wide. "Are those . . . My pictures?"

"Yes, but not the originals," Damian reassured him.

"I don't know what to say," Tim said, choking up. The bulletin board was beautiful.

"'I love you guys' would be a start."

"I love you, too." Tears spilled down Tim's face. He wiped them away.

"Awe, Tim, don't cry. Jason and Damian hugged him at the same time. "We are gonna hang this up over there," pointing to an empty spot on the wall.

Tim wondered how they knew he needed a bulletin board.

"We have something else for you," Bruce said.

"Something else?" Tim questioned. What more could there be?

Dick sat in front of Tim holding a stack of papers. He looked like he was about to burst.

"What is it?" Tim asked,

"Okay . . . here," Dick handed Tim the papers with the DNA results along with a few others.

"What is this?"

"We . . . we're . . . brothers. Biological brothers."

"What? That can't be . . . I mean I'd love it if it were true . . ." Tim looked at the DNA results. " . . . POSITIVE? Then that means . . . Then who . . ."

"Tim, you're a Grayson!" Taking the stack from Tim, he found what he was looking for and placed it on top. "Read."

'Wait, that's my Dad's handwriting,' Tim observed then he started to read the letter addressed to him.

_**My Son, how do I explain this. I did not want to tell you while your Mom still lived . . . **_

"What? Tell me what?" Tim said out loud.

_**You might never have learned this, and that's okay too. Even so, if you find these pages, you have a right to know . . .**_

_**You are my son, but your mother . . . Well your mother was a very beautiful and loving woman . . .**__**Whom I met very briefly**_** . . .**

"What is my Dad . . . _Whom I met very briefly_ . . . Briefly? Who?"

"Tim, stop asking questions and keep reading," Dick insisted.

_**I know Janet loved you very much, and she was your mother in every way . . . But she did not give you life . . .**_

"Wait a minute . . . Janet Drake wasn't . . . Wasn't my mother?"

"No, she wasn't. My mother is your biological mom."

Tim had a confused look on his face.

"Read the rest," Bruce encouraged.

_**She wasn't able to have children. Don't get me wrong she loved you like her own child. And you are my son in every aspect . . . The woman who bore you . . . Who gave you life was Mary Grayson .**_ . .

'Mary . . . Gray . . . Grayson . . .' Tim started to hyperventilate.

"Are you okay," Dick asked.

Realization hit Tim all of a sudden. 'Oh my god . . . DICK . . . Dick really is my brother!' Tim look up at Dick. "I . . . You . . . You're . . . My brother . . . My real brother! I can't believe it after all this time . . . I met you when I WAS TWO and a HALF! I was meeting my own brother! I'm not alone any more."

"That's exactly what I said. Come here you," Dick reached over and gave Tim a hug.

Tim in turn grabbed ahold of Dick . . . Grabbing him tight with his right arm as best he could . . . Not wanting to let go. "I . . . Wanted so much to . . . To help you . . . My Dada wouldn't let me . . ."

Dick held him tighter, rubbing his brother's back. "It's okay."

"I . . . Have felt . . . So . . . Alone . . . And so . . . Useless . . ." Tim's voice was muffled against Dick's shirt.

"I don't ever want you feeling like that okay? I'm here . . . You can always talk to me," Dick rested his head on top of Tim's.

Something inside Tim finally broke. ' . . . I have a brother . . . A real brother . . . And I'm loved,' Tim thought. "Okay . . ."

"No look at me," Dick shifted and tilted Tim's head up, smiling. "When ever you feel that way, come and find me. I'm never far away."

Tim nodded back. "Okay . . . I will. Tim looked around and saw the looks on Jason and Damian faces.

"You still love us too right Tim?" Jason teased only to get nudged in the side by Damian.

Tim opened his arm, inviting both in. Jason accepted the invitation first and put his arms around Tim. Tim didn't realize how much he needed them as well. "I . . . Do . . . Oh geeze I sound like I'm getting married," Tim started laughing.

Damian pushed Jason out the way to hug Tim. Then felt Jason hug the both of them.

Alfred pulled out his phone and snapped a picture. "Perhaps you can put this on your bulletin board, Master Timothy."

Tim laughed harder. He hadn't laughed in a long time. "Hey . . . I just realized . . . My acrobatic skills . . . I'm not quite as good as Dick's . . . But . . . That means . . ."

"Both you and Dick are world class," Bruce interrupted. "I did see you at school once . . . You were on the rings and on the parallel bars."

"Wait . . . When . . . I didn't see you there," Tim stated, surprised.

"Let's just say it was before we met," Bruce replied.

"I'm sorry everyone for the way I've acted," Tim said.

"Promise you won't do it again?" Damian chided.

"I'll try . . . And if I get that way again . . . You can hit me over the head with your staff . . . But not too hard. Don't want my big brother coming after you."

Tim tried to get up to look at the bulletin board when he almost collapsed. His legs felt weak. 'I must have over did it yesterday.'

"You stay in bed." Dick picked up the bulletin board and brought it to Tim so they could both look it over.

Continues with Part 6


	7. Chapter 7

Brothers, Portraits, and Messages.

By

AJ

Part 7

Dick woke up and made his way to Tim's room and saw that his brother was still sleeping. 'I still can not believe that he's my brother . . . My blood brother.' Dick sat on the edge of the bed next to Tim and stroked his hair. 'So many people say that he looks like me. They are right, he does look like me.' Dick looked over at the bulletin board that Damian, Jason and he had put together. 'I do hope it helps him.'

"Couldn't sleep?" Bruce said quietly, finding Dick in Tim's room.

"Yeah," Dick replied, smiling.

"I can tell it's already helped. Tim hasn't laughed like that in a long time."

"He's also slept better . . . No nightmares," Dick added. "Bruce . . . do you know how happy I am . . . it . . . I can't help but thank him for running off. And thank you for finding those letters . . ."

"That's an odd way of seeing things. Though I think in the process of running away, he was also running toward something as well. Tomorrow we reveal our final surprise."

Dick yawned. "OK . . . I'm going to sleep for another hour."

"Okay, you get some sleep, Son.," Bruce stated. "It is early or late depending your point of view. Are you going to sleep here or in your own room?"

Dick snuggled on Tim's good side and closed my eyes.

'I guess that answers that question," Bruce mused. He moved across the room, pulled a blanket from the closet, and draped it over his sons. He gave each a kiss then went to check on Damian and Jason. This revelation was a surprise for everyone. Only time will tell how everything will work out.

Tim suddenly felt warm but it wasn't from a fever. Someone was lying up against him. ' . . . My brother . . . it was as if he was protecting me as I sleep.' Tim felt content. It was comforting. Still he could not help question why his Dad would keep such a secret from him for so long. He remembered Dana. His father and his new stepmother talked about having kids together. 'Maybe he wouldn't want her to be hurt . . . But I did have a right to know . . . And I always wanted a brother. I always felt like something was missing. Now I know why.' The warmth of having his brother close lulled Tim back to sleep.

##

Damian ended up crawling into bed with Jason. He knew Tim and Dick needed time with each other since they found out they were brothers, blood brothers, but he still could not help feeling that he had lost Dick in some way.

"He still loves you, Damian," Jason said. "I'm here also if you want to talk."

"You wouldn't leave if you knew you had a sibling out there . . . would you?"

"I would leave to find them, but come right back with or without them." Jason replied. 'My home is here, no matter how ugly it gets between Pops and I." Jason could not help smile a bit when Damian cuddled closer. "Besides who else could give me a run for my money when we spar?" Jason added. "Damian showed us all how amazing he was when he made that promise months ago. I do believe he has my original helmet still."

Damian started to drift off when Jason rubbed his back. "Thanks Jay. Love you."

"You're welcome kid," Jason chuckled.

#

The dream came again, the one Tim had since the circus. He still had it from time to time. This time though the dream changed. "No . . ." Tim mumbled in his sleep. This time he saw more than just Mary and John Grayson fall, he saw his brother fall, "NOOO!" Tears streamed down Tim's face. " . . . Just when I found you, please . . .don't leave me . . . All alone . . ."

Dick could feel Tim squirming around in his sleep. "Tim . . . Tim wake up." Dick shook him lightly. "Come on, wake up.

I'm right here, you need to wake up." Dick took Tim's hand in his own.

" . . . Hugh . . . No . . . " Tim's breath came faster. He clutched at the blankets.

Dick pulled Tim closer, rocking him. "Shhhh, it's okay Tim.

Tim was brought out of the dream as Dick rocked him. "You didn't fall . . . You didn't fall . . . You're here . . . You're here . . .You . . .didn't . . . fall. Tim clung to Dick as he relaxed once more.

Dick continued to rock Tim until both relaxed. He stirred fifteen minutes later. 'I must have dozed off with Tim in my arms.'

Tim stretched to wake myself up. "Owwww . . ." Screwing his eyes shut and grabbing his left shoulder.

"Be careful. Did you forget your arm was in a sling?"

"Yeah . . . I think I over stretched . . . Pulled my stitches on my hip too. I don't know what's worse . . . Being sick or having two injuries to deal with. Never got to ask about Black Mask.

"Let's not worry about him," Dick said. "We need to get you better."

"I'm going a bit stir crazy . . . Isn't there something I can do? I promised Damian I'd show him some special paintings hidden around the manor too."

"If you take your time, then yes. I'm sure Bruce won't mind."

"Won't mind what?" Bruce asked as he came in to check on Tim.

"If he shows Damian some of the paintings around the manor," Dick answered.

"I don't see why not," Bruce agreed. "Make sure you don't over do it," he said sternly. "I don't want a repeat of what happened day before yesterday."

"I . . . I promise. I . . . Um . . . Need to get dressed. Dick could you tell Damian."

"Dick, I'll see you at breakfast?"

"Yeah," Dick replied. He got up and followed Bruce from Tim's room. He first wondered into Damian's room and discovered he wasn't there. Maybe Jason's room? Once he got there Dick could see them, cuddled up. Still sleeping. Dick smiled at those two. Finally getting along. He went back to Tim's room to inform him. "Tim, Damian is still sleeping."

"Oh," Tim was a little disappointed. "Well could we go down for breakfast instead?"

"Sure."

"I wonder if Alfred will let me get a shower. He probably wouldn't want me getting my stitches wet."

"Let me get dressed." Dick's stomach started to growl at the prospect. Then Dick started to laugh. "Hey ha ha ha, take a bird bath!"

"A bird bath? Very funny, I can't . . . my hip remember," Tim pointed out.

"I know. Do you need help getting dressed?"

"Yeah . . . With my arm in a sling to relieve pressure on my shoulder, I can't use both hands."

"Okay for bottoms, do you want sweats?"

"Sure . . . At least I won't have a zipper to deal with." It was strange being dressed by his newly discovered older brother, but at the same time kind of fun, and embarrassing at the same time. Though Dick has helped him before from injuries he's received. This time it felt different.

Dick took out black sweats with Gotham High going down the right pant leg. "Will these do?"

"Yeah," Tim replied.

"Here let's switch your shirt now."

"Okay" Taking the sling off. Tim's arm was getting stiff from holding it in one position. After getting his shirt off, Tim suddenly froze. He hadn't seen himself in the mirror. The wound from the bullet caused him to shudder. He stared at it for a few minutes. 'Did . . . I actually . . . Come that close?' Tim swallowed and his face paled. He suddenly felt weak in the knees. 'I've never come this close to death before.'

"Are you okay?"

Tim leaned his head against Dick's chest. "I . . . I had no idea . . . Just how close . . . I came to dying. I would have died and never had known . . . You are my actual brother."

"If he were to die and I found out . . . I would be devastated,' Dick thought, but didn't voice it.

Tim needed Dick to hold him at that moment. The realization that he could have died was very sobering. 'Everything would have ended . . . And it wouldn't have been from my choice. Seeing the wound . . . The destructive power . . . Made me realize . . . I want to live . . . To do good . . . And to stop those who would destroy others' lives.'

Dick held Tim close, giving him comfort. "You'll be fine. Let's get breakfast."

Continues with Part 8


	8. Chapter 8

Brothers, Portraits, and Messages.

By

AJ

Part 8

"Come on, let's go to breakfast," Dick encouraged.

". . . Sure . . . Can I have my shirt?" Tim was starting to shiver.

Dick handed Tim a gray shirt. "I wonder what Alfie made for breakfast."

"I hope its waffles," Tim said. "I miss having his waffle bar where you can put anything you want on them."

"Oh yes! Blueberry waffles." The talk of food was making Dick hungry

"I want strawberry syrup and whip cream on mine." Tim's stomach gave out a loud growl.

"Well, we better get that stomach of yours fed. Would you like a piggy back ride down to the kitchen?"

'Aren't I too old for that?' Tim thought. "Sure!" Tim thought he must sound like a six year old. 'He is my big brother . . . And practically speaking it would keep my hip from hurting.'

Dick couldn't help but smile. 'I know I've been an older brother for years now but . . . with Tim, it has always different, like when we're together it was right.' Kneeling down Dick let Tim climb onto his back.

Inside Tim was having fun. He would see Dick carry Damian that way, despite Damian's protests at times and when Tim was 14 Dick had carried him that way when he sprained an ankle. They made their way down to the kitchen and Tim slid off Dick's back onto one of the island chairs. Alfred had two plates of waffles waiting for them.

"I bet Damian and Jason will be down real quick as soon as the smell reaches upstairs," Tim said as he took a bite. They tasted wonderful. 'Like I haven't eaten in weeks. To tell the truth . . . I haven't eaten much in the past three months.'

Alfred put another plate of waffles in front of Master Timothy. His clothes were loose on him and he knew Tim had lost weight . . . At least twenty pounds worth. 'We shall have to work to bring him back to his correct weight.' Alfred thought. Alfred's eyes grew wide as he noticed Tim wolfing down his food. "Master Timothy . . .

"Hey, slow down," Dick said. "You could get a stomach ache."

"Oh . . . Sorry . . . I guess I'm really hungry," Tim said.

"It's fine that you are eating, I don't want you choking," Dick stated.

"Slowing down . . . to be honest . . . I haven't been eating all that much . . ." Tim knew that Dick would not like what he was going to say.

"Why is that?" Dick asked trying to remain calm and coaxing Tim to open up.

"Well," Tim took another bite. " . . . Um . . . I guess it started around the anniversary of my father's death . . . almost four months ago . . ." Tim averted his eyes so he did not have to make eye contact.

Dick placed his fork down so he could listen.

"We were . . . um trying to . . . keep Talia from taking Damian . . . And I . . . I forgot and I made a promise that I would visit my Dad's grave . . . And then I had that on my mind . . . end then everything just blew up in my face . . . I started making mistakes . . . and getting hurt . . .and . . I . . . I'm sorry . . . I should have said something . . . but everyone was so busy . . ."

"No, I'm sorry," Dick stated. "I should have paid more attention to you. Should have known about the time of year it was. It was my fault. It was all of our fault for not remembering."

"I . . . I guess so," Tim replied. "It's just as much my fault for not speaking up. Damian needed attention during that time. That was more important.

"You both are important. Look at you now. You're hurt." Dick had a sad look. "We are all in pain because you're injured. You were close to death. You can't scare us like that anymore."

Being chastised by his brother this time really felt different. Tim looked down at his plate, and promptly lost his appetite. "I guess I did scare everyone," Tim said quietly, looking slightly upward. "I . . . I'll try not to scare you . . . But what we do is scary sometimes . . ." Tim was in a dilemma. He wasn't Red Robin at the time of his injuries. He hadn't worn any protective armor. 'I can't promise not to get hurt and if I do . . . I'll probably get myself killed. I just don't know what to do . . . I guess that's why I was thinking about giving up my mask, so I wouldn't scare them any more.' Tim pushed his plate away. "I . . . I think I'm full."

"Master Timothy . . . You haven't finished your waffles."

"I'm not hungry any more. It was kind of a lot." It was a partial lie. There was a lot of food, but the topic kind of spoiled his appetite.

"Timmy, I didn't mean to scold you. I'm just worried is all."

"I . . . I think I'm going . . . to go back to my room." Tim was feeling like a five year old. Despite the way his hip was feeling, Tim started to head back to his room. He didn't feel like a lecture right now.

"No, Timmy, don't hole yourself in, please." Dick watched Tim leave the kitchen.

"Master Richard . . . Perhaps you were just a little too harsh," Alfred pointed out. "He knows how much everyone was scared. It is why he is behaving the way that he has. The dilemma is whether to continue being Red Robin or not. Too much overprotectiveness will cause him to once again put doubt in his abilities."

Dick pushed his plate out of the way and placed his head on the table.

"I know you love him Master Richard, but before you learned he was your actual brother by blood what were your views on protecting him? He was your Robin at one time."

Dick sighed. "I've been protective before. Now I'm going over board. Great, just what i need."

Tim slowly walked up the stairs to his room, careful of his hip. He wished Damian were awake. He needed some distraction from his own misery. 'Dick just made me feel guilty about getting hurt. It's not like I did it on purpose. And right now I feel like I probably would fall flat on my face if I even tried to do anything that was remotely acrobatic. Why can't they just let me heal and stop harping on the fact that I was hurt.'

Tim decided instead of going to his room, he'd go visit Damian or Jay. He locked on Damian's door, but the ten-year-old didn't answer so he knocked on Jason's door.

"What is it?" Jason asked, somewhat gruffly.

"Can I talk to you?" Tim asked

"Sure, though Damian's asleep."

"We can go to my room so we don't disturb Damian."

"All right, let's go," Jason limped behind Tim. There wasn't any pain since he took a painkiller earlier.

Tim walked to his room, but couldn't go any further. He was starting to lose his energy so he sat in a nearby chair.

"So, are we heading in your room or sitting right here? Something bugging you?" Jason asked.

"Sitting here I guess. I guess I'm tired of being surrounded by four walls," Tim replied. "Has Dick ever gotten overprotective toward you?"

"Yes, a couple of times actually."

"He acts like I got hurt on purpose and then he made me feel guilty . . . I'm getting to the point where I want to go back to my apartment and be left alone to heal." Tim didn't add the thought of making an important decision about his future.

"You need to realize that's just a part of who he is," Jason shrugged. "I tried hiding away from him also, he found me easily." Jason scowled. "To be honest he is protective of each of us in his own way. Look at the way he is with Damian compared to you and I. He is quick to hold him and make sure what ever is bothering him goes away. With me, totally different. He gives me my space, but is there when I need him."

"Yeah, but now I think he's gotten worse after learning I'm his blood brother. He slept holding onto to me as if to protect me. That was okay . . . but then he had me ride piggyback . . . He's only done that once with me and I was 14."

"Question for you, how would you feel if you were in his shoes? Thinking you were the last Grayson then finding out you had a brother? You would try to protect him right? You wouldn't want him to fall, just like . . ." Jason's voice faded. He doesn't like talking about other people's past.

"Well technically I'm still a Drake. And Bruce adopted me so . . . I'm a Wayne. Dick and I may have the same mother . . ." Tim's voice faded as well. 'Oh boy Jason was right, if I found out I had a brother, little or big, I probably would become more protective of him.'

"Technicalities or not. You know what I mean."

"Yeah . . . I do. That's what's scary . . . So, how do I get Dick off my back for a while . . . Other than hiding from him."

"I'd threatened to shoot him. Want my gun?" Jason sounded serious, which caused Tim to give him a very perturbed look.

"Don't you think that's a little drastic?"

"No, it's called safety," Jason stated. 'At least to me.'

Tim could see that Jason acted paranoid at times when it came to Dick being a protective older brother. He fidgeted and was beginning to wonder if talking to Jason had been a good idea.

Jason was amused by Tim's reaction. "Or you could take the nice 'Alfred' ways of doing things and talk to him about it."

"I don't know if he'll listen right now. I think he needs Alfred to talk to him first."

"I hope it works."

Continues with Part 9


	9. Chapter 9

Brothers, Portraits, and Messages.

By

AJ

Part 9

"Master Richard, making Timothy feel guilty will not protect him from getting hurt," Alfred chastised

"I wasn't trying to make him feel guilty," Dick said.

"Expressing your fears to him and expecting him not to 'scare you like that again,' is an impossible feat. Even Master Bruce would not resort to that kind of chastising,"

Dick slouched down even further. 'I've been smothering him. Alfred was right,' he thought. "I'm just going to give Tim space until he feels better. I'm just going to leave him alone until he feels better."

"Now Master Richard, do not go overboard in the other direction." Alfred could see Richard's reaction. 'He is either going to be overprotective or not give enough attention. I've seen it with Master Jason and Damian. Master Bruce was the same way with Richard.'

"Then what am I suppose to do?" Dick got up from the breakfast island and started pacing.

"You need to balance your time," Alfred instructed. "Master Damian will feel neglected if you do not spend any time with him, as well as Master Jason. Might I suggest you take Jason on Patrol and Timothy and Damian can spend some time together."

"Jason isn't healed all the way. He's still limping slightly. Maybe I can take him out to lunch or something?"

"That would be acceptable and I understand Master Timothy has promised to spend some time with Damian walking around the Manor."

"That is true."

#

"It's not like I don't like spending time with Dick . . . I do need my space too. I just want him to realize I'm not six years old.

Oh, how's your leg by the way. Everyone's been concentrating on me, and well, you're hurt too."

"Don't worry about me. The leg is getting there." Jason stated, "But thanks for asking."

"Well, that's good to hear. You'll be able to go back to training soon."

"It would be nice...I don't think Bruce will let me use my guns anymore."

"Maybe you can modify them, use something else other than bullets." Tim suggested. 'I don't know if Jason would go for that, but at least he would still be able to use his guns. He seemed pretty upset at not being able to use them. I guess that would be like me not being able to use my wings or my bow staff.'

"I can try," But Jason wasn't convinced.

"You might try tranquilizers . . . rubber bullets . . . or if you have to use bullets . . . shooting them to disarm or if you have to injure. Just don't kill . . . That's what Bruce doesn't like. Giving you options might be what you need."

"I've been killing people. I just can't stop. It's hard for me in hand-to-hand combat also. I'll just end up severely hurting the person, something Bruce dislikes also."

"I know it isn't an easy path to follow . . ."

"You don't know how hard it is." Jason argued back.

"But Jay, it's EASY to kill and once you start, when does it stop? My father was killed by Captain Boomerang. He had a Boomerang sticking out of his chest. I have Bird-a-rangs. I could use them so easily to kill with, but I don't. Making the choice is the hardest thing."

"Out on my own I never had a choice," Jason explained. "Aiming that gun...and then pulling the trigger . . . It was easier then having a choice. Now I'm back here and I'm given choices with fate attached to it."

"Jay here's something else to think about," Tim advised. "You deal with criminals, you are sometimes thought of as a criminal . . . You are also an expert marksman. I've seen what you can do. What if you forget one night and you shoot one of us . . . All I ask is you think about it. I think Alfred has breakfast downstairs waiting for you." Tim watched as Jason got up from the floor and walked back into Tim's room. 'I wanted Jay to think about that for a moment. It has to be his choice on how he will use his guns. I can't do it for him. Right now, both my hip and shoulder were aching. I need some rest.'

Jason sat there for a couple of minutes on Tim's bed. It was easer than going clear back to his room. 'What if I did end up shooting one of them? But I'm excellent at my work. I couldn't...I could...oh forget it...I guess I'm changing to rubber bullets or aiming so I won't kill...this was going to be hard.'

Jason got up from Tim's bed as Tim came into the room. "I think I'm going to get some breakfast." He left the room and went down to the kitchen. Jason gave Dick a nod went he entered. After the discussion he had with Tim, he didn't really feel like talking.

"Aw, Master Jason, have you come for breakfast?"

"Yes, Alfred."

"What would you like? I seem to recall that you always liked a variety of syrups with your Waffles along with walnuts."

"Waffles," Jason perked up. Alfred's waffles could make the world a better place. "That . . . that would be nice."

"I shall get you a plate. Master Richard, are you finished?"

Dick looked down at his plate, his stomach growling. "I'm still eating."

"Very well, Master Richard . . . Perhaps I better go check on Master Damian. He's been asleep for a long time."

Alfred went up to Master Damian's room only to find it empty. He knew he wasn't with Master Timothy or Master Richard, so the most obvious place he could be was in Master Jason's room. He entered the room and threw back the curtains. "Master Damian, you're not going to sleep all day are you?"

Damian wasn't sleeping. His mind was awake, but he didn't want to get out of bed. 'I-I'm...I'm coming to the realization that Dick might not want me since he has Tim. Usually he comes and wakes me up in the morning...but he didn't.'

"Did you forget Master Damian? Master Timothy promised to take a walk around the Manor with you."

"No . . . .I haven't forgotten," Damian said unenthusiastic as he curled into Jason's blankets. "Just wanted to put it off for a bit."

"Hmmm. I believe Master Timothy is in need of some company other than Master Richard for a while."

"-tt- . . . Really?" Damian peeked from under the covers.

"I believe Master Timothy mentioned viewing some paintings while you were lying on the couches in the living room while both of you were ill. It would be a great opportunity for Master Timothy to get some exercise and you can keep an eye on him if he tires."

"Okay . . . I'm getting up," Damian tossed the covers back over his head and stretched. "What Time is it?"

"Nearly Noon," Alfred answered. "You should be in time to have the remains of breakfast." Alfred watched with amusement as Damian rolled out of bed and headed downstairs. He followed Damian to the kitchen. Once seated Alfred place some waffles with fresh strawberries and yogurt in front of Damian. Damian dug in, eating a strawberry first.

Damian was sitting next to Dick. He was so quiet. 'It wasn't like him to not at least speak with me.' Damian questioned. "Grayson?"

"Hey Lil D," Dick said, putting his arm around Damian.

"Would you care for some strawberries for your waffles, Master Damian?"

"Please?"

Alfred took out the strawberries, wash them, then cut up a few more and placed them on Damian's plate. "Let me know when you are finished Master Richard." Alfred could not help notice that Dick was still despondent after their conversation. "Master Richard, please take my advise to heart. You would not want what happened a couple of months ago happening again, if you remember - Master Timothy running away because Master Bruce along with others who shall remain nameless became over protective? Master Damian, more yogurt?"

"No thank you Alfred. Is Tim in his room?" Damian asked as he popped a strawberry in his mouth.

"Yes, Master Damian. Go right on up."

Damian headed up to Tim's room and knocked on his door.

#

Tim was sitting up in his room thinking, and feeling a bit miserable. His eyes fell on the bulletin board and he spied an image that he had not seen before. Obviously someone took the picture, the very same picture that was taken when he was two and a half. This one however, was a close-up of just Dick and him . . . Like brothers . . . Then realizing even more that they are brothers. Tim resolved to talk to Dick later about how he felt. Looking at the pictures reminded Tim that he promised Damian he was going to show him where those paintings are that he saw. Tim got up and sat at his desk to write what he remembered. He heard someone knocking on the door.

"Come in."

"Are you still up for showing me those paintings?" Damian asked. He was getting excited to see them.

"Yeah . . .I'm just making a few notes. They're not in obvious places. The first one we have to go to is on the other side of the Manor."

"Notes about what?"

"About the paintings . . . I learned that Martha Wayne loved the impressionist period of art. She tried to copy them at first, from what I can find. There are a lot of her art books in the library." Tim made a note trying to remember what shelf the book was on. 'It was small, and you wouldn't notice it at first, and that's why it stood out to me.'

'He's going through all of this for me,' Damian thought. "Thanks for doing this Tim. It means a lot."

"Before we go to the other end of the manor we have to go to the library."

"Okay."

Damian walked to the library . . . More like he walked Tim limped. They got to the library within ten minutes, though it usually only took five. Tim was breathless when they got there and starting to sweat. He did my best to ignore it.

"Okay . . . Um . . . Let me think . . . Oh now I remember where I put it." He stuck the small book high on a shelf near the window. He moved over to that shelf and tried to reach it without the use of the library's ladder." " . . . Hugh . . . Owwww . . ." Tim could feel his stitches being pulled along his hip, but he was determined to reach the book. "Hugh . . . Aaaaaa . . . I almost got it." He could feel a sudden wetness but he ignored it.

"Tim, maybe I should get it," Damian stated. "I don't want your stitches to pull." Damian stood next to him just encase Tim lost his balance.

"I . . . Think it's a little late for that . . . If you can get it, it's the small black book without any title."

"Okay," Damian helped Tim to sit down on the library's couch. He moved the latter in place and climbed up to the level of the shelf that Tim had indicated. He was a couple of inches off but Damian was able to reach the book. "Hey, should we have Alfred take a look at your stitches?"

"I'm okay," Tim lied, shaking his head. He didn't want to disappoint Damian now that they were together. "You're going to want to open that book."

Damian sat next to Tim and opened up the book, placing it in the middle so both could examine it. Damian's eyes grew wide and he saw the artwork inside. "Whoa..."

"This is one of Martha Wayne's sketchbooks," Tim explained. "This one tells where the paintings are located in the manor . . . And like I said, they aren't in obvious places. I found this when I was looking for a different book. It sort of fell into my lap." Tim tried to hide the bloodstain that was forming on his jeans.

"These sketches and drawings were . . . so . . . so . . . I'm speechless."

"Bruce has probably forgotten this exists . . . I thought you might be interested," Tim said, wiping away sweat from his forehead.

"Where are the other books? I can grab them while you rest."

"Some of them are over there on the bookshelf near the small fireplace, on the left side." Tim was starting to shake. He didn't know if he could hide it much longer.

Damian was quick to wander over and grab the sketchbooks after verifying them. There was a whole shelf of the books. He took just a couple at a time. Grandma was so talented. In one Damian opened there was a sketch of Father. "Tim look! It's father when he was younger." Damian took the book over to show Tim.

" . . . Really . . . " Sweat was pouring from Tim and he could feel the blood starting down his leg. "Dami . . . I . . . I think you . . . better get Alfred . . . "

Damian looked down to see a large blood stain on Tim's jeans. He rushed from the library. "Al! Al! Tim's bleeding in the library!"

Continues with Part 10


	10. Chapter 10

_**A/N: A review that I received stated that it seemed hurtful that Tim keeps repeating about Dick being his biological brother. First hand it's something NEW to them both. He doesn't mean to be hurtful, which he doesn't realize he's being. He and Damian will forget all about it because they will be sharing something they have in common, a love of Art, and not just any art either. This story though is going to continue for quite some time with two or even three more sequels. There are more surprises in store for the Bat Boys.**_

Brothers, Portraits, and Messages.

By

AJ

Part 10

'I should have used the ladder . . . Thought I could reach it.' Tim felt foolish. He should have asked Damian to reach it for him. Tim started to feel light headed and he lay back on the couch waiting for Damian to return with Alfred.

"Master Damian, we do not go around shouting at the top of our lungs."

"But Tim's bleeding.," Damian lowered his voice.

"What? Go get Master Richard immediately. He is still in the kitchen." Alfred headed to the library. He found Timothy lying on the library's single couch. A few books surrounded him. His left hip on his sweats was stained with blood. "How did this happen?"

Damian padded his way down to the kitchen where Dick was still sitting. He was texting some one on his phone. "Come on Dick, Tim is bleeding, he pulled his stitches, again."

"Doing what?" Dick asked trying not to panic and acting like it was not all that serious.

"Trying to get a book off of a shelf in the library."

'Oh just a little accident. Nothing to fret over,' Dick thought. "I'll be there in a minute. Just need to finish this text."

"Let me take a look." Alfred pulled on the material. "It seems to be a partial tear. We better get you to your room and I shall suture it back up."

"Why am I sweating?' Tim nodded and started to stand then almost collapse. "Where's Bruce?"

"Master Bruce is not home. He had an emergency meeting at Wayne Enterprises. Lean on me Master Timothy."

Tim did as Alfred said, letting him take a lot of my weight. Tim realized that Alfred was stronger than he looked. Where's Damian? He went to get Dick, but they're not back yet. Jason couldn't help because of his leg. "Just sedate me . . . " Tim's words were coming out slurred. "Sedate me . . . "

"And why ever for?"

"So, I can heal," said Tim, dizziness overtaking him. "Oh wait . . . I don't think . . . I'm . . . going to . . . need it after all . . ."

"Master Timothy? Master Timothy!"

Tim passed out, causing Alfred to lower him to the floor.

"Alfred, what's going on with Timmy?" Dick asked as he came upon Alfred and saw Tim lying on the floor.

"Quick Master Richard, he's torn his stitches in his hip. It was the worst of the gunshot wounds, he's passed out, and I cannot carry him."

Dick saw just how much blood had soaked through Tim's sweats. He could feel the panic rising and he tried to tamp it down. "Where to? His room?" Dick asked as he lifted Tim in his arms, being careful so as not to tear Tim's stitches further.

"Yes, please . . . I shall get my suture kit. He has asked me to sedate him so he can rest and heal. I believe he has been realizing the gravity of his situation."

Dick took Tim to his room and laid him down on his bed. 'I will not panic. He will be fine.'

Alfred went to the cave and grabbed a suture kit then grabbed a test tube and syringe. 'My hunch tells me that Master Timothy may still need blood. His energy is not returning as it should.' Alfred returned to Tim's room to repair the tear in his stitches. 'He will have some nasty scarring from this second tear. He did not tear it completely, but it was enough. I must take a blood sample.'

Dick watched silently as Alfred repaired the tear in Tim's stitches. Scars were reminders of what caused the pain. 'We all have them. Some more than others.'

After suturing the wound a second time, Alfred took a blood sample. "I am going to test his blood levels. He was sweating profusely. I do not suspect another infection. Something else may be going on."

Dick nodded, but didn't say a word. He left Tim's room to go find something to occupy his troubled mind.

Damian followed in silence. He did not like his older brother's reaction. It was out of character for who Dick was as a person. He hoped Dick would snap out of it.

Alfred left Tim's room to do his analysis. The butler took the blood sample to the machine. He placed a few drops of Tim's blood on a slide and slipped it into the machine. The machine will take thirty minutes. When the machine chimed and printed out its findings, Alfred read the printout. He went over to the cold storage where the blood supply was kept and grabbed a pint of blood and a bottle of iron from the vitamin supplies. He returned to Master Timothy's room. He set the bottle of iron on Tim's desk. 'Master Timothy will need to start taking Iron for several weeks.' Alfred set up the IV and started Tim on the blood.

Tim came to and found Alfred standing there. "You going to sedate me? I . . . I just want to stay here . . . And heal . . . I don't want to . . . Deal with guilt . . . Or scaring the rest . . . Maybe if I'm asleep I can just . . ."

"Master Timothy, sedation to escape life's issues is not an appropriate choice."

"I'm tired . . . And unhappy," Tim cried. "I don't know what they expect of me . . . I was having fun with Damian starting to discover about Martha Wayne . . . But now . . . I'm stuck back in this bed . . . So sedate me . . ."

"I am sorry, Master Timothy, but you are going to have to deal with difficulties another way. I shall return with your lunch."

Tim continued to lie on his right side staring into space. 'If Alfred wasn't going to sedate me, I'll just lie here and do nothing. I'm not even hungry. And I don't feel like doing homework. Just let me lay here. It's all I'm good for anyway.'

Damian walked into Tim's room carrying several books. He placed them down on Tim's desk. He could tell Tim was still down and needed some kind of distraction. "Tim . . . wanna play a game with me?"

"Sure," Tim replied, less than enthusiastic, but curious. "What kind of game?"

"We could play something on my Xbox but I would have to move it into the room. Mind waiting?"

"No . . . Go right ahead . . . I'm not going anywhere," Tim replied.

Damian ran back to his room and unplugged his Xbox and then made his way back to Tim's room with the equipment. He quickly hooked it up and turned it on. "It's a trivia game. It's really funny."

"Sure." Tim needed something to occupy his mind and he was glad that Damian at least wasn't complaining about Tim getting himself hurt.

"I'm sorry about this morning . . . I really wanted to show you those paintings," Tim said apologizing.

"I brought some of the books into your room to look at later," Damian stated as he started the game. "Grandma wrote notes in some of them and I want to test some of them out."

"Sure . . . Hey maybe you can find one of her paintings. I know one of them is up on this level, but I don't remember which room. She mentioned in the book about painting a whole Muriel. She also mentions playing a game with Dad when he was little. She called it spot the picture."

"Spot the picture?" Damian asked. "Do you think we could play?" the ten year old suggested, losing interest in the Xbox game. "You could show me and I can go find them and take a picture of it to bring back to you."

"Yeah . . . That actually sounds fun . . . Give me one of her books. I can stay in bed and you can act as my eyes. I can let you know if you found the right one." Tim was getting more energized and less depressed as they agreed on how they would approach the hunt.

Placing the controller down, Damian grabbed the book on the top of the pile and handed it to Tim. He flipped through the pages and spotted one of the drawings that he knew he'd seen before. "Here see if you can find this one. It looks like a still life with flowers and there's a window behind it."

"Okay, " Damian looked at the drawing. 'I've seen that before, somewhere near the kitchen."

"Do you have something to take a picture?" Tim asked.

Damian held up his phone and raced out the door heading down the stairs and to the kitchen. He looked around until he spied what he was looking for.

Alfred saw Damian enter the kitchen while he was preparing lunch. He watched him looking around. He saw that Damian had spied what he was searching for and he took a picture of . . . A painting? Alfred walked over to the painting and looked at it. His eyes grew wide at the signature . . . Martha Wayne? 'I had no idea. This must have been during the time my father had been butler here. I never really noticed it.'

Damian raced back, entered Tim's room and bounced over to the bed. "I found it!"

"Let me take a look." Tim took Damian's phone and examined the image. "That's it! GREAT . . . let's find another one. There's an image she based the next one on. This one. It must have been when she travelled somewhere."

Damian looked. "That one . . . It's in some one's room . . . Fathers!"

"Hey, you're right . . . I remember that one too."

Alfred carried a tray up to Jason's room. He saw Damian running into Master Bruce's room and back out to Master Timothy's room. What are they up to?

"Here!" Damian handed over the phone again. 'Her paintings must be all around the house,' he thought.

Tim looked at the image and compared it with the one Damian took on his phone. "Look how she painted this. She painted the zebra, but not much behind the animal, just a few lines that were suggestive of something. It was on the tip of his tongue. "Do you recognize what she painted in the background? It's a little small on this screen."

Damian studies the background. "Is it a circus setting?"

"You could be right. The lines do look like they could be from a tent . . . Hey show that one to Dick . . . I bet he would remember."

"I'll show him later," Damian replied. "I want to keep finding pictures! Please?"

"Um okay. How about this one, it looks like a sketch of two bathrobes. But take my tablet, it has a larger screen."

"Okay," Damian took Tim's tablet off his desk and ran around looking through each of the bedrooms again.

Alfred came out of Jason's room with his tray and was heading to Tim's room with his lunch. He watched Damian running in and out of bedrooms . . . All 14 of them. "Master Damian what is going on?"

"I'm looking for something," Damian answered.

"May I be of assistance?"

"I'm looking for two bathrobes."

"I believe there are two bathrobes in the pool area," Alfred answered. "Do you wish to go for a swim?"

"No, no," Damian waved the question off. "Grandma drew them, but I can't find them."

"Check the pool area just the same. I remember seeing two robes that never move."

"Thanks Alfred." Damian ran down the stairs, camera in hand, right into the pool area.

While Damian was searching for the painting, Tim flipped through the pages again and found another image. 'I'll have to ask Alfred about that one.'

"Lunch Master Timothy," Alfred announced.

"Just set it down. I'm trying to find another image for Damian."

"I shall leave your lunch on your nightstand. Do not forget to eat it."

"I won't, thanks Alfred." Tim went back to flipping through Martha Wayne's books.

Damian went to the pool area and searched. He did find them. They were hanging up on a wall he'd never paid attention to. He moved closer and realized they were painted on the wall. On one it said Thomas and the other Martha. He took a picture of both and then one of each robe.

"Did you find them?" Tim asked as Damian came back. Tim could see there was a light smile on his face.

Damian made my way to the bed and showed Tim the pictures. "Yes I found them," displaying them on Tim's tablet.

Tim realized something that brought tears to his eyes. They were getting to know one of their grandparents. "You know what's happening . . . We're getting to know Martha . . . Grandma Wayne."

Damian realized that also. "It's nice that we are. Now if only we knew what Grandpa did."

"Bruce . . . I mean Dad told me . . . He was a Doctor; Chief surgeon in fact, at Gotham Memorial Hospital."

"Does Father have any of his surgical tools still? It would be nice look at them."

"I don't know," Tim responded. "Alfred might know about that. If I had my laptop, I could find out information on him."

"What do you think they would be like if they were still alive today?"

"Probably doting on all of us, especially you." Tim remembered his grandparents. 'My father's father so proud that he hoped if my Dad didn't take over Drake Industries, he hoped I would. He died a week before my tenth birthday.'

"No, I think they would love us all equally but differently. Yes, I'm Father's biological son, but you, Dick and Jason have earned that title, too."

Tim never would have expected Damian to speak like that. "I . . . Thanks . . . I guess I need to hear that."

"I only spoke the truth," Damian stated.

Tim opened his arms to receive his brother. Tim realized he was also missing Dick. He needed all of them, but Tim wanted them to help him heal, not constantly remind him that he almost died. 'I don't want to be smothered, I just want to be accepted and loved, just like Damian.'

Alfred brought up his phone and snapped a picture. 'Another picture for the Wayne family album.'

Neither of us heard the camera click. "I love you, Damian

You are doing more to help me heal right now."

"I love you too and you're welcome."

"Hey, how many paintings have we found so far?" Tim asked.

"Three believe," Damian answered.

"Here's one we haven't found . . . It's of a very young child . . . I say about three."

Damian studied the painting. "Is that Father?"

"You know . . . I think you're right." Tim looked again. Then looked at Damian. 'It's uncanny . . . He . . . He looks so much like him. I wonder if Talia realized that what she was creating was a child that looked more like Bruce. She may have added more Wayne qualities than al Ghul, which was her greatest mistake.'

"This one is in the dinning room. I'll be right back."

Tim wondered if Bruce even remembered these. Tim found one more. 'Oh my . . . That . . . That can't be . . . I know he wasn't even born yet. How could she know? I'll send Damian to find this one next when he comes back.'

Damian was studying the picture. 'Father and I do look a lot alike.' Damian snapped the picture and headed back to Tim.

Tim flipped back to that other picture of a child. It doesn't make sense. How did she know?

"What's got that frown on your face?" Damian asked.

"I think we have a mystery," Tim stated. "Take a look at this. It's obviously not Bruce."

"Is that me?" Damian looked closer. "That's not me. It can't be. Is that . . . How did she even—"

"—That's what I mean," Tim interrupted. "How could she have known?"

Continues with Part 11


	11. Chapter 11

Brothers, Portraits, and Messages.

By

AJ

Part 11

Tim and Damian looked at the sketch of the child staring back at them. The eyes were unmistakable, the face very familiar. A date on the drawing that Martha Wayne had drawn certainly showed that it was before this child had been born.

"Was she a psychic? Damian asked.

"That's a good question." Tim flipped back and read the caption. "It says Dream Child. Damian, go get one of Alfred's photo albums. I think you know which one." Tim waited for Damian to return. He remembered that Bruce's parents were killed when he was eight. The date on the drawing indicated that the image was painted the year before they were killed.

"Why do you need the photo album?' Damian asked when he returned with the retrieved album. "Isn't that another painting of Father?"

"No," Tim said. "Somehow she's painted a picture of Dick before he was even born." Tim flipped the album so Damian could see. The sketch was the same as the one in the photo album. "I need you to go find this painting."

"Where would it be? It has to be where she would spend most of her time. Do you know?"

"It could be in her art studio," Tim explained. "That's the one place in the Manor that I haven't found. And I explored this place when I would stay here when my parents would leave and the housekeeper couldn't take care of me. Unfortunately I'm not supposed to get out of bed. I can't look around. The room would have to have light coming in from the north and very large windows besides a large enough space for painting."

"I don't think I've ever explored the entire Manor before," Damian stated, a feeling of excitement coming over him. "Maybe Alfred knows."

"I know there's a third floor to this pace, but I haven't been able to find how to access it. It's as if that part of the house has been cut off. I think the studio might be up there somewhere. You can clearly see the third floor from the outside."

"Where did you check, the last time you looked around?"

"Let me think," Tim said. "It wasn't above the music room. It must have been somewhere in the west wing. I haven't been over there for a couple of years . . . Too busy . . . If you know what I mean. There are rooms I haven't visited in a long time . . . Even a family chapel."

"Is it there in the study?"

"It isn't in Bruce's study we know that. We've all been in there. We would have seen it . . . And we've been in Alfred's quarters too, not often, but enough . . . .I think you're going to have to go over to the west wing and find out. Maybe there's a set of stairs I overlooked or was hidden somewhere. Get a couple of com-links and we can stay in touch."

"All right I need to head to the cave," Damian said.

'This is turning into a real mystery,' Tim thought. 'Why wasn't this particular painting visible where it could be found and viewed? Unless . . . The painting was unfinished. The drawing is dated a year before Bruce's parents died. That means Martha had to be working on the painting in between those times. I just hope my hunch is right.'

Damian scurried down to the cave and ran into Jason on the way back.

"What are you up to?" Jason asked. "Alfred said you were running around all day."

"No time," Damian said in a rush. "Follow if you're interested."

" . . . *YAWN* . . ." Tim was getting tired, but this mystery also got his curiosity up. He was using his head instead of just moping around. He took both images and placed them side-by-side. They were clearly the same person, but different setting. Pinpointing where was the challenge.

Tim waited for Damian to return despite the fact that he was feeling tired. He couldn't keep his eyes open any longer. As he fell asleep both books slipped from his hands and onto the floor. Tim started tossing and turning in his sleep. " . . . .How did . . . He find out? No . . . Black Mask . . ." Tim was sweating profusely. " . . . No . . .don't shoot . . ."

Jason ended up following Damian back up to Tim's room. When they entered Tim was asleep and he was mumbling.

"Tim . . .Timmy," Damian shook Tim's good shoulder.

"You're going to have to do more than that, mini bat." Jason moved Damian out the way slightly. 'He's dreaming, sounds like about Black Mask.' Jason placed his hand on Tim's cheek, pulled it back slightly and gave a small tap.

". . . Hugh . . ." Tim moaned slightly and opened his eyes. "I guess I fell asleep." Tim rubbed his eyes. He was dreaming about Black Mask but didn't want to talk about it. "Did you get the com links?"

"Yeah," Damian handed one to Tim. "Jay would you like to help?"

"Sure," It sounded like his baby brothers were doing some interesting work, even though he didn't know the full story behind it. "What are you doing?

"Show Jason what we found so far," Tim said.

Damian picked up the book Tim dropped and showed Jason Martha's drawings and the corresponding images. "Jason, who do you think this is?" Damian asked, pointing to one of the unfinished sketch.

Jason looked the drawing over. "Is that Dick?"

"Look at the date. Now look at the photo," Tim said.

"What? This is like . . . way before he was even thought of," Jason exclaimed. "Where did you find this?"

"It's one of Martha Wayne's drawings.," Tim responded. "We've been searching for her paintings throughout the manor. That is, Damian's been searching, I've been confirming."

"You mean Grandma did this?" Jason asked, surprised. It was weird calling Martha grandma . . . but it's true. "But . . . how . . . wait . . . was she a psychic?"

"Read the caption," Tim said, smiling. Damian had asked that same question. 'Dick is going to flip . . . Literally.'

"Dream child?" Jason could not help but smile. That was Dick all over. Sometimes his mind was up in the clouds.

"I've been sending Damian around the manor to find the paintings that match the drawings . . . But we haven't found that one." Tim explained.

"Hmmm. Well I think I know where it might be . . . I just need to remember."

"We were thinking about finding her studio. It might be on the third floor. But I couldn't find any place where you can access it unless it's in the West wing."

"I've been in the west wing before," Jason stated "There's more paintings all over the place there. Damian and I can go check it out."

"Would you take some pictures?" Tim insisted. "Keep me posted too."

"Why were you in the West wing?" Damian asked. "When were you in there?"

"I know the ball room is over on that side as well as the Wayne chapel . . . I didn't get to explore much over there," Tim stated.

"I was in the chapel and found a panel that lead to stairs . . . but that was by accident," Jason said. "Maybe that's where her Studio is?"

"A secret stair . . . It may be worth a look. Do you think you can find it again?"

Jason sighed heavily. "I can try. I found it when I first came to the manor. I was angry at something and pounded on the wall."

"Todd, I demand you find that panel again!"

"Easy Damian . . . What area of the chapel were you in? Maybe we can pinpoint the location."

"Tim, that was long ago. I need to head over there."

"Well, take a look, maybe something will jog your memory."

"Okay, come on Damian."

Tim waited about five to ten minutes before contacting Damian and Jason on the com-link. "Jason, Damian, tell me your location."

"We are about to enter the chapel," Damian's voice came over the com-link, loud and clear.

"If you find any paintings by Grandma, could you take a picture of them so I can see them."

"We are way ahead of you RR," Jason's voice came over.

'RR . . . I know Jason is only trying to make me feel better, but I can't help thinking that I might not be RR ever again . . . I haven't really decided. I've lost so much confidence in myself,' Tim thought. "Let me know when you get there. " Tim stated. 'Just don't keep me in the dark like Dick did.'

"We are in the chapel now. Jason has hit the . . . DONT BREAK THAT!"

Tim could hear a loud crash come over the com-link. "What's going on? Damian, Jason, answer me." But there was only silence. 'Damn I wish I can get out of bed.' Then I heard Damian yelling at Jason over the com-link.

"You stupid idiot! Don't go throwing things that could be valuable!"

"It can't be that valuable," Jason's voice replied. "I remember breaking this vase . . . let me do what I need to do." Jason pushed the cheap vase over. "See . . . it's chipped just like last time . . . so the panel has to be over here."

Tim heard the two arguing over the com-link. 'Sounds like old times.' Then a tear fell down his cheek. 'Keep it together Drake . . . You wanted to do this.'

Jason banged around a little before he pressing onto the wall a few inches away from the vase. That's when the secret door opened. 'No wonder Bruce is so amazing at hiding secret entrances.'

"Come on, Todd. We need to finish getting the photos and finding that Dream child." Damian pushed passed him and went up the creaking stairs. It was odd how there were cobwebs all over the place. Once they got up to the top they couldn't help but feel amazed. The room was large, filled with light, and there were stacks of paintings and canvases of all sizes.

"Whoa, there are so many paintings in here." Jason turned in a circle. The place was beautiful. Even though it hadn't been touched in years it was like brand new. He had to keep from going and touching things. "Damian, will you be taking this over?" He is the artist in the family. Plus it would go to good use. Damian needed a studio of his own.

Damian took a picture and shrugged. He held back on his excitement. "That's if Father would let me have it." Damian made sure he took photos of every single one. Then that's when he found it, the Dream child. It was right above Martha Wayne's desk, framed in what seemed like a circus themed frame. It was black with elephants, a circus tent and clowns around it. "Todd . . . it's right here."

Jason walked over to where Damian stood. "Should we take it? I mean everyone has the right to see it, plus I think Tim should see this one with his own eyes."

"You're right," Damian agreed. "Can you reach it? I'm too short."

"No problem," Jason moved the chair out of the way and reached up, lifting the painting by the bottom and lifting it straight off the wall. He held it so the painting faced his chest so the painting itself was protected.

"Todd look. There's something written on the back."

_**Dream child,**_

_**Though I won't be able to meet you, keep my Bruce in high spirits. He needs you more than ever, all of you.**_

"All of you? She knew about all of us?"

"Maybe she was thinking about drawing all of us, but . . ." Jason looked down feeling a sudden pang of sadness for the loss.

Damian sighed. "Come on . . . Let's go get this to Tim."

Continues with Part 12


	12. Chapter 12

Brothers, Portraits, and Messages.

By

AJ

Part 12

Jason looked around the large room before they headed back through the Manor. "I really do hope you get this studio Damian, it would be a nice get away for you, plus I want to see your skills as an artist grow." They were making their way back down the stairs.

"That would be nice," Damian said dreamily. "I do hope father says yes. I don't even think he's been up there. Plus, her sketches are almost like a guide for me. I have several of her books already."

"If he says yes, I can help you clean it up."

"Thanks Jason," Damian smiled. They were heading back towards Tim's room. "Hey, is that frame heavy?"

"Slightly. I think it was custom made," Jason's fingers rubbed the frame lightly. "I wonder how Dick would feel when he sees this."

"Surprised, that's for sure. I know I was. Grandmother was amazing, a psychic and an artist?"

"How come Bruce hasn't picked up any of those traits?"

"He could be suppressing them," Damian surmised. "Most adults tend to do that when they reach a certain age."

"Well, could you imagine? Bruce with psychic abilities?" Jason stated, shaking his head. "Crime would never go up again here in Gotham."

Damian gave out a chuckle, and even sounding a little like their father.

"What? You don't think it would."

"I don't think we should be making fun of father if he had an ability like that," Damian stated, but he couldn't keep from laughing.

"Batman, he's here and there! Everywhere! Knows your every move before you do!" Jason dramatized.

Damian shook my head at Jason. "Here, do you want me to hold that?"

"No I got it. Plus we're almost there."

They ended back in the foyer, near the main staircase. Heading up the stairs they entered Tim's room.

Tim was looking over the drawing and saw three others near the back of the book. She couldn't have known . . . . . And yet . . . It was so strange. The drawing of Jason though it was unfinished it was as if she knew that something was going to happen to him. Part of the image was in darkness. And his hair had the white streak in it, but before when he was Robin, it wasn't there. There was one of Damian, but much younger than expected. Then the one Tim saw of himself sent a chill down his spine.

Damian and Jason entered Tim's room. "Look what we snagged." Damian pointed at Jason.

"NO Way! You're . . . You . . . Oh my . . . Damian . . . Go get Dick. He's got to see this. Oh, by the way . . . There were three more drawings in the back of the book." Tim said, holding up the book with his finger marking the page.

"We know, check out the back of the painting." Jason showed it to Tim. "She knew there would be more of us. This was left for Dick."

Damian found Grayson watching TV in Bruce's room. "Grayson . . . come here." Damian would use Dick's last name when he really wanted his attention.

"Hmmm?" Dick got up to follow him into Tim's room. Jason was showing Tim a portrait. "What's that?"

"Jason, show him the painting," Tim said. "Dick, who do you think that is?"

"It's me." Dick said. "Did you do that Lil D? It's nice!"

"No, Damian did not do that," Tim said.

"What do you mean Dami didn't do this?"

"Look at the signature. And look at this." Tim handed Dick the book. "This belongs to Martha Wayne. Look at the date."

"Oh . . . my . . . " Dick's eyes widened. "Dream child?"

"And that's not all," Tim stated. "She drew all of us. Read what's on the back of the painting."

'He needs you more than ever,' Dick read. He looked at the others. "How did she know about us though? Psychic I take it?"

"It looks that way . . . You've seen the painting in Bruce's room of the zebra, didn't you wonder why it had a circus theme? Didn't you tell me at one time that Haley had zebras in the circus?"

"Yeah they . . . they did . . . Oh my god. Grandma Martha knew about us!" Dick exclaimed. "She knew about us. Tim . . . Jason . . . even Damian." Dick's mind was racing. "Does Bruce know about all this?"

"No . . . " Jason replied. "Your Dad, Tim and Bruce, weren't they close to the same age?"

"Yes, a few years apart." Tim answered. "The Drakes and the Wayne family, my Dad and Bruce went to school together. I can see there being a connection . . . It's just down right eerie that she would know about Jason and Damian."

"All of us actually," Damian stated. "We have to tell Father, but I haven't seen him all day. Has anyone seen him? It doesn't matter how eerie it is, how she painted us almost perfectly. Her visions . . . She could see perfectly."

"Actually, he just returned home," Dick answered. "He's in his bathroom. I was watching TV in his room."

"Could you get him?" Damian was starting to get nervous. What if he already knows about this and didn't want to see any of it. 'It's too late now. I guess we'll all be in trouble.'

Dick went back into Bruce's room and walked in on him pulling a shirt on. "Hey pops, can you come into Tim's room for a second? There's something you really should see."

"Pops? Am I getting that old Dick?" Bruce asked, shaking his head. "Okay. I'll be there in a moment." Bruce finished putting on his shirt then went into Tim's room. "What's this about?"

Seeing all four of his sons in Tim's room was odd. Something was going on by the way they were acting. "Okay, what is going on here."

"Show him Jason."

Jason turned the painting around. "Guess who!"

Bruce's eyes grew wide. "That. . . that looks like Dick. Where did you get that? Did Damian paint that from one of the photo albums?" It was in an odd frame that seemed somewhat familiar.

"I didn't paint that, Father."

Bruce moved closer to the painting and examined the frame. 'I know I've seen that frame before . . . but I can't recall where.' He examined the painting. 'No . . . it can't be . . . Mom?' Bruce bruised his fingers along the signature. "Where did you find this?"

"Damian and I found it in her studio," Jason said.

"Studio?" Bruce questioned. 'They found my Mother's studio? I . . . I totally forgot that it even existed,' he though. "Where," Bruce asked, clearing his throat. "You located her . . ." Memories came flooding back as he remember going up the stairs in the chapel and into this large space filled with canvases and light. "Can you take me there?"

"Jason and I can take you back there."

"How about only Damian? My leg is killing me here."

"When is the last time you had a painkiller?" Bruce asked Jason.

"I don't remember."

"Why don't you stay with Tim and Dick and rest your leg. Damian can show me. I'll have Alfred get you a painkiller."

"All right, just follow me," Damian headed out of Tim's room and followed the route back to the hidden staircase.

Bruce followed Damian. He hadn't been to the chapel or even to the ballroom for ages. His memories at times were sketchy at best when it comes to the past before his parents' murders, but as he followed his son, a particular memory came back to him.

When they got to the chapel, Damian started to feel on the wall looking for the panel. 'Where...did Jason.."

"Wait . . . I remember." Bruce's hand reaches behind a vase in a small alcove and presses on one of the bricks. A panel moved aside. "I remember my Mother . . . your grandmother holding my hand and leading me to this place. I was a lot younger than you." Beyond the panel was a set of steps. 'I'll have to get Alfred to clean this, now that it's been rediscovered.' Bruce followed Damian up the steps.

"Father I know . . . I know this is Grandmothers . . . But . . . If . . . if it would be okay . . . could . . . could I use this studio?"

Damian's words barely registered in Bruce's mind. Memories came flooding back as Bruce remembered his mother showing him her paintings. He remembered standing at the easel and painting with the light at her back. 'Sometimes she would face out the window. "Sit over there," she would say and she would sketch me.' Bruce walked over to a stack of paintings that were leaning against the wall. They were ones she had been working on . . . before. He shook off the morbid thought. Bruce started to look through them when he suddenly stopped on one and just stared for a moment. It . . . It was Jason . . . Jason before . . .

"Father . . . Father what's wrong?" Damian walked up to his father and put his arm on his sleeve.

"Nothing's wrong . . . " Bruce flipped through to another painting . . . Tim? The last one was obviously Damian, but a very young Damian, before Bruce knew he even existed. "Could you help me with these three."

"Sure."

They headed back down the stairs and through the chapel again, heading back to the East wing and back to Tim's room. 'My sons must see these as well.'

Damian scowled a little, but dropped it. 'I'll ask later . . . then again . . . he might say no.'

Damian followed Bruce with one of the paintings while he carry the other two. Bruce knew Damian tried to ask him something when he got caught up in his memories. 'I'll find out what it was after we show these to the others.' Bruce thought. 'What was odd was that my Mother saw each of these boys as her grandchildren, even before they were born.' They walked into Tim's room and started handing out each painting. "Well, looks like we have a full set. Jason, I believe this one is yours. There appears to be something written on the back as well."

Jason took the portrait and looked at the back.

"_**Even if it feels as if the world is falling apart around you, your home is always right here.'**_"

Jason felt like he wanted to cry. There was more but he couldn't see through the tears that were fogging his eyesight. He would read the rest later.

"Tim, I believe this is yours as well."

Bruce handed Tim the painting and he marvel at the quality of the art. Tim turned the painting around and there was also a message.

_**Baby Bird do not fret, you shall fly high along side your brother. Falling is part of flying as you find the currents to guide you. Just spread your wings and let those around you lift you up.**_

Tim was astounded. 'Oh man . . . Dick calls me Baby Bird . . . But how did she know he was my brother? Even we didn't know that until . . . ' Tim could feel tears stinging his eyes.

"Damian, I believe you have the last one," Bruce said.

Jason got up to leave the room. The emotional level was becoming too much. He was going to take his painting to his room when Tim called his name.

"Jason . . . wait. We haven't heard from Damian."

Damian loved Grandmother's work. Everything seemed so smooth. He turned his painting around and stared at the message.

_**You are loved in every way here, just because one gave up on you doesn't mean we will. Smile little one.**_

Damian smiled after that, a wide grin that he hadn't done before. It . . . it felt different and good.

"Bruce . . . Dad's painting . . . In the dining room," Tim said. "I just bet there's a message behind it, too."

"What do you mean . . . My painting?" Bruce asked.

"You do have one, Father," Damian said.

"I have a painting? You mean that painting hanging in the dining room of some kid? I never really thought about it."

"Bruce that kid in the painting is you," Tim stated. "Your mother painted it." Tim found himself using Bruce's first name more to make a point. "How did you not know that was you? Even I knew that."

Ever since that night it was as if Bruce had blocked certain parts of his memories. "Selective blockage . . . if you know what I mean, Dick . . ." Bruce saw only the vow that he had made, and any joy and happiness had been gone from his life for a very long time.

"Pops, go down stairs and look at that painting. It's you. I bet it says 'Your Batman' on the back of it."

"What did I tell you about calling me Pops," Bruce gave Dick a smirk. "Only if you come with me, Dick. The others can stay here."

"Old habits die hard," Dick said jokingly. Dick got up to walk with him down the stairs.

Bruce walked down to the dining room. He stood in front of the painting that was of himself as a child. He should have remembered this, but the dining room for a time was often associated with family. 'And I had lost mine that night. The messages on the paintings upstairs seemed to reach beyond the grave and beyond time. This painting however, had been painted in my lifetime.'

"Come on, Bruce, what did grandma Martha write to you," Dick encouraged.

Bruce started to reach for the painting to pull it down when he noticed his hands were shaking. He didn't know if he could do this. To have his Mother write him a message from beyond the grave was . 'Come on Bruce, you can do this,' he said to himself. 'You've fought criminals and looked at clues without this kind of nervousness. This is just your mother leaving you a message.' Bruce slowly reached for the painting a second time, this time pulling it off the wall and turning it around. His eyes nearly filled with tears at what he read.

Dick placed a hand on his father's right shoulder. "What does it say?"

Bruce's voice was thick with emotion.

_**Four candles light the corners the darkest of caves. Let them be your anchor in the night. Let them remind you of home and family.**_

"My . . . My mother would often have insights into people . . . I guess as a kid, I didn't understand it then. She knew . . . .In some way she knew that I . . . I would be down in that cave. And sometimes that cave felt like the darkest place in the world, but it wasn't. The darkest place was right here," Bruce pointed to his heart. "It only became a little less dark when you entered and opened the door."

Dick smiled, and hugged his dad. "You're welcome. I guess we both helped each other."

"I believe this message is supposed to be a reminder for me to look beyond the darkness. When I was lost in time . . . I saw four faces in my mind. I didn't know who they were at first. It was Tim who reminded me, and when he did, I remembered. I can say this, those four faces were my anchor . . . They brought me home." Stepping away Bruce straightened himself out. "Should we take this to the others? I think they are all meant to be together."

"We should hang them up some where." Dick tried to think of a spot.

There had to be a perfect spot to display all five paintings. The messages will remain private among themselves, but the paintings . . . Looking around the dining room, Bruce realized that his painting had been centered on a very large wall. The ceiling was 12 feet in height with plenty of room surrounding it.

"Maybe we do have the perfect spot after all."

This story will continue in the next.

_**Serpent in Paradise**_

_**It is two months after the events in Brothers, Portraits, and Messages. Jason's partner returns to surprise him. Tim is sick with bronchitis and the Bat Family goes on vacation to the Bahamas. And someone is interested in Tim for his understanding in computers.**_

_**This story will appear later. I will be moving to Beaverton, Oregon on July 2**__**nd**__** and will not have time to enter it into the computer until after we are settled. There will be surprises in store for the next installment.**_


	13. Chapter 13

Brothers, Portraits, and Messages A/NNote from the Author.I just received the following review. Story: Brothers, Portraits, and MessagesChapter: 12. Chapter 12From: Viv (Guest) -Viv:come on the next chapter will be awsome and ur putting it off! your a pile of s***!This review was UNFAIR and UNCALLED FOR!I WILL BE MOVING! I am going to be OFF LINE soon, which means NO COMPUTER Until I am moved into either an apartment or house! The only device I might have will be my IPAD. And I cannot update stories REFRAME FROM FLAMING a person! It is uncouth and hurtful.I will update when I can.( AJ

_Thank you for apologizing [Viv] that means a lot. I am going to say this to everyone out there. **PLEASE DON'T FLAME A PERSON'S CHARACTER**, and I mean the person who wrote the story. They work hard to bring you a story that they worked on. Give a constructive review, what you liked about the story, what you didn't, and make suggestions on improvement. If you find that the author's work isn't for you, you have the choice of not reading it. If you love them, then tell them. Sometimes though LIFE outside of Fanfic can get in the way. I have 20 days left until I move. And I am feverishly trying to get the story prepared between packing, sorting, donating, and throwing out junk. And we have yet to begin painting to cut costs on renovations yet to be done. Luckily, those will be done AFTER we leave._

_I don't want to post the story only to find that I can't post the rest because of the move. So, I hope to be posting it some time in July once I am back up and running. Hopefully, it will not be that long. My daughter and I leave for Beaverton, Oregon on July 2nd. And I have to pack up my computer on the day before. It's tough leaving my friends behind and the community I've been a part of for 18 years. I've lived in Virgina for 28 years. Longer than I lived in my home state of Nebraska. I am going to miss everyone. But I am also looking forward to starting a new life elsewhere. And once I am back on line, I can visit with old friends, and start working on stories again._


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